


No Fury

by Meri



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M, Mystery, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-12
Updated: 2010-09-12
Packaged: 2017-10-11 16:41:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/114469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meri/pseuds/Meri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After years of avoiding Draco Malfoy,  Auror Harry Potter is forced into a situation where he can't anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Fury

**Author's Note:**

> **Note 1:** Written for the 2008 HD World Cup, Team Epilogue, Prompt: Wheel of Fortune (Reversed)  
> **Note 2:** Many thanks to my betas Regan_V, Pir8fancier, Leela_cat and snakeling. They all made this story much better. Any mistakes after their hard work are all my own.

Prologue

Draco hurried into Harrington's, the newest and poshest restaurant on the Alley. His mother had insisted on lunch out today.

Narcissa waved as he came into the dinning room proper and he made his way towards her. He smiled at several people he knew; they nodded, but did not smile back

Clearly, the jury was still out on him. With Harry Potter's intervention, his father had only received ten years. Draco was sure that Father wouldn't survive the sentence, even in the new and improved Azkaban. His will to live was gone. Potter had done his best for them, and Draco supposed he owed him for that, too.

"Mother," Draco said, kissing her cheek. "Why am I here?"

"To have lunch with your mother, why else?"

"We couldn't have had lunch at home?"

"No. Not on such a nice day." She waved at the waiter. He deposited menus on the table and returned with their drinks.

"Your interviews went well," she announced it rather than asked.

Although working for someone else didn't appeal for the long term, honing his skills was important. "Yes. Depending upon my N.E.W.T.S. scores, I have a shot at two of the top investment firms."

The waiter appeared at their table, quill in hand.

"I'll have the salmon," he said, and waited for his mother to order. "Why am I here?"

"What do you know about Astoria Greengrass?" Narcissa asked, sipping her tea.

"Not a lot. Why?"

She gave him a sharp look. "Why do you think?"

Draco groaned. It wasn't unexpected. Purebloods had to marry. "Pansy?"

"I think not."

"Daphne stood with Potter. Do you think the Greengrass' will have me?"

"I've heard her father has some gambling debts."

"I'm sure he does," Draco drawled. In the end, he was sure it wouldn't matter. His mother would arrange what she would, and he'd do his duty.

"Well, hello dear," Narcissa said, standing and holding out her hand. "Draco darling, you remember Astoria Greengrass?"

"Mrs. Malfoy, it's so good to see you." She took Narcissa's outstretched hand and then turned to nod at him. "Draco."

"Astoria. It's good to see you again." Draco said, shooting a glance at his mother before turning his gaze back to Astoria. Well, their children would be beautiful. "Why don't you join us?"

"Thank you," Astoria said, sitting down across from him.

* * *

  
Twenty Years Later

Harry sighed and looked around for Hermione. Every year he swore he wouldn't go to the Ministry Yule Ball. He hated the noise and the crowds, and having to wear dress robes. And every year, he ended up going anyway.

Hermione had wandered off again, leaving him to the mercy of the overdressed women, all of whom wanted to hear twenty-year-old war stories. He caught sight of her talking to Astoria Malfoy, which wouldn't have been so bad, if Draco Malfoy hadn't been standing next to them.

Over the years, it had been impossible to avoid Malfoy completely, but Harry had done his best. The ball was one of the few places where he couldn't avoid anyone. That Malfoy was dressed in perfectly pressed robes, his long hair bound in a matching black clasp, grated on Harry's nerves. He reminded Harry far too much of Lucius.

Astoria tipped her head back and laughed at something Hermione had said. Maybe it wasn't that odd that they were friends, but Harry couldn't help thinking so. Though they were both elegantly dressed, they were a study in opposites: Astoria blonde, petite, and sleek, and Hermione tall and slender, with that wild hair she'd never bothered to tame still cascading down her back.

With another deep sigh, he headed in their direction. Perhaps he could extract Hermione without having to speak to Malfoy.

As he reached them, a scream rent the air. Astoria Malfoy was backing away from everyone, pulling at her robes.

"What's wrong?" Draco asked, reaching out to her.

She backed away, still clawing at her robes. "It's burning!"

Dark magic radiated off Astoria's robes. Harry's stomach tightened. "Get back! Everyone get back. It's a Dark curse. Can you get the robes off?"

Before Astoria could answer, her robes burst into flames. Her hair caught and lit up her face with an eerie golden glow. She fell to the floor, screaming, her arms flailing around, trying to tamp down the flames.

Her screams paralyzed the room. No one moved. All they could do was watch helplessly as she flailed on the floor.

A second later, Malfoy started to reach down for her, but Harry got to him before he could touch her, pulling him to the ground, holding him down. "No! You'll be caught in the curse if you touch her."

"Do something!" Malfoy's voice cracked on his cry.

Without knowing the right counter-curse, it was just as likely that a random fire-retardant spell would engulf the room in the magical fire as douse the flames.

A knot of lead invaded Harry's chest as he watched helplessly. She screamed and screamed and screamed. There was nothing he could do, and the frustration ate at him. He wanted to help her, to do something.

"Astoria!" Malfoy screamed again, even more desperately, fighting to throw Harry off. He was strong, but Harry was stronger. Then Draco's struggles lessened, and his shoulders shook as hope seeped out of him.

It felt like an eternity before the screaming stopped and the room went horrifyingly quiet. The curse left the smell of magical fire and charred flesh in the air. Harry checked his watch; it had been less than a minute from when she'd backed away until she died.

His stomach roiling, Harry got to his feet, pulling Malfoy with him. He put his wand to his throat and whispered, "_Sonorus_. Everyone remain calm." Harry looked around, assessing the situation. "Will everyone except Aurors Murray, Hotka, Davidson, and Paulson, go into the dining room right now."

Hotka got to them first, and Harry turned to her. "Go with the guests and make sure they all stay in the dining room until they're questioned."

"Yes, sir," she said, moving towards the exiting crowd.

He waited a beat until the people started to file out. Several people were sobbing, but most didn't look back.

Hermione was crying softly and Harry pulled her into his arms for a moment. "Are you okay?"

"No. Not at all," Hermione snapped. "Astoria was a dear friend of mine. Oh, God, poor Draco." She nodded to where he was still kneeling on the floor, his face in his hands.

"I know. I'm sorry. Can you take Malfoy over to that bench, away from here?" Harry tilted his head towards the far wall. He couldn't help Astoria, but maybe Hermione could help Malfoy.

Stepping back, Hermione wiped her face and helped Draco to his feet. As soon as he'd gone a few steps, he saw his wife's charred body, and stopped, staring down at it. "Astoria," he whispered.

Several cameras flashed.

"Get out of here, you vultures," Harry said through his gritted teeth, glad to have somewhere to focus his anger. "Paulson, make sure they," he jerked his head toward the group of reporters, "are isolated from the rest of the guests"

Harry pointed his wand at the camera and muttered a charm. The film inside started to smoke and the reporter, Stephen Harper, glared at him.

"You can't stop the press. You don't have the authority," Harper yelled, bringing his camera up again.

"This is a crime scene. If you so much as say one more word, I'll have your arse thrown in jail for impeding my investigation. Do you understand me?" Harry drew himself up to his full height. Under the best of circumstances -- which these weren't -- Harper made him grind his teeth. His muckraking made Rita Skeeter look like an amateur. Even Malfoy didn't deserve that. It gave Harry no end of pleasure to stymie him.

Harper paled, taking a step back. He practically ran to catch up with the rest of the reporters.

Hermione had got Malfoy over to the bench. She was holding his hand and it looked like they were both crying. Harry closed his eyes for a moment, drawing a deep breath. He'd dealt with all sorts of violent deaths in his life, and this wasn't the first time he'd seen someone die horribly, but...he'd never get used to it.

Pulling out his magical mobile phone, Harry dialed the night desk. In as few words as possible, he explained what had happened and requested a forensics team to be sent out immediately.

When he was done, Harry turned to the assembled Aurors, and was pleased to see that there were two more standing there that he'd missed in the crowd at the ball. "Okay, you all know the drill. We need to question everyone, find out what they saw and what they know."

"There are three hundred people here," Mary Grace Murray said. "And six of us. It will take all night."

"Then I suggest you get started." He waited until she nodded. The six of them went into the dinning room without another word.

* * *

The following morning, Harry knocked on the door of the head of the MLE's office. He hadn't had time to change out of his dress robes. The smell of magical fire still clung to them and the cleaning spell he'd tried had done nothing. "Pricilla, you wanted to see me?"

"I understand that you want to handle this case yourself?" Her gray hair was piled on top of her head haphazardly and her eyes were bloodshot. She hadn't gone to last night's ball, but she was still dressed in yesterday's clothes.

Harry admired her dedication to the job. Unlike most of her predecessors, Pricilla Chambers didn't care that much for politics, and her only interests were protecting the innocent and catching the guilty.

"Yes. I know I'm supposed to be out of the field now," Harry said. "But --"

She waved her hand. "As my deputy, you can investigate anything you want. Do you know anything yet?"

"Hermione is researching it." He'd tried to make Hermione go home, but she insisted on coming back to the Ministry with him.

Pricilla sighed, waving him to the chair in front of her desk. "Since when does a prosecuting solicitor work on an investigation?"

"Since Astoria Malfoy was her colleague and one of her closest friends." Harry had never got close to Astoria, but that had more to do with who her husband was rather than who she was.

"That's even more of a reason for her _not_ to be working on this case."

He could just see how that conversation would go. If Harry hadn't been so exhausted he would have snorted. "You want to tell her that?"

"If she gets in the way, I surely will. This is a hot case. We need a quick resolution." Pricilla's eyes met his. "Harry, we're right in the public eye with this one."

Harry sat back and exhaled slowly. "I know. I'm working on it. Unfortunately, there wasn't much left of her. Forensics has what's left of the body, but someone knew what they were doing."

"Tell me again exactly what happened," Pricilla said.

Under normal circumstances, Harry would have been annoyed by the implication that he'd missed something, but Pricilla had been around long enough that some detail might trigger something for her. Many times, she was better than those Muggle computers they'd all got, and Harry still couldn't use. He went through the details of last night again.

"You know, this kind of sounds like the spell that Blaise Zabini used on his rival, what was his name? Jordan Periwinkle, I think."

Harry had forgotten about that case. They'd never been able to prove the fire spell that had eaten Periwinkle alive had been cast by Zabini, but they all knew it. Even though he hadn't been a Death Eater, Blaise Zabini headed one of the major crime families in wizarding Britain.

"I wonder if he's got a grudge against Malfoy." Harry made a mental note to have a chat with Zabini tomorrow.

"That's what the investigation is for." She paused and said carefully, "I'm assuming that your previous antagonism toward Malfoy isn't going to be an issue here. Have you interviewed him yet?"

"Not yet. He was distraught at the scene." He yawned and then sat up in his chair. "You don't suspect him, do you?" Surprisingly, Harry hadn't considered Malfoy. "He had nothing to gain from her death."

"You know we need to suspect everyone. And nothing to gain only means we don't know what it is yet." She smirked at him as only a former Slytherin seemed to be able to do.

"In all the years I've known him, I've never seen him fall apart that badly." It had come as something of a shock to see Malfoy was human enough for that.

"Given his history, I wouldn't think of him as stoic. Perhaps it was an act."

He had a lot of respect for Pricilla, but sometimes she wanted to play devil's advocate a bit too much. "He was practically hysterical. I've seen far too many people lose loved ones, and I've seen all kinds of reactions. His grief was genuine. There's no doubt in my mind that he cared deeply about his wife."

"I'd always heard that he preferred men."

Harry ignored the tiny shockwave that went through him. It hardly mattered what Malfoy's preferences were. "I hadn't heard that. He doesn't, I mean, I've never seen…"

"Really?" She looked right at him. "I guess you'd know better than I."

Harry could feel a blush creep up his face. Almost forty and he still blushed like a schoolboy. "I'm not big into the scene, so I'm no expert, but there's never been any talk among the Aurors on my crew that he swings both ways. I guess I can't put this off any more. I'm going to change and then go out and talk to him."

"Have you had any sleep?" she asked, her tone sounding a bit too much like Molly's.

"Have you?" he asked.

Pricilla laughed. "Didn't you ever learn not to answer a question with a question?"

* * *

Malfoy Manor hadn't changed much in the twenty or so years since Harry had last been there. Though these circumstances were far different, he felt a moment's unease as he passed through the large hallway into the library.

The room was immense, with floor to ceiling bookshelves going up two levels. A floating ladder hovered in one corner for the higher level books. A fire burned brightly in the grey stone fireplace, a direct contrast to the mood of the room. Malfoy and his son were sitting close to each other on a leather sofa beside the fire.

"Mr. Harry Potter," the house elf announced.

Malfoy looked up, his eyes red-rimmed. "What do you want?" He didn't bother to put a proper sneer into it.

No matter how many times he did this, Harry never stopped hating having to question the victim's family immediately after a tragic event. "I'm very sorry to bother you now, Malfoy, but I need to ask you a few questions."

For a second, Malfoy looked like he might object, but then he sighed. "Scorpius, why don't you go upstairs?" Malfoy nudged his son.

Scorpius sniffed and stood up.

"How is he doing?" Harry asked after the boy had left. Sometimes it helped to talk about other things first.

"About what you'd expect for a child whose mother has been brutally murdered." Malfoy's voice cracked, and he took a breath. "Typical Gryffindor, he's trying to be brave for me."

That Scorpius Malfoy had been sorted into Gryffindor had come as a shock to everyone. There was nothing Harry could say about it that wouldn't sound ridiculous. "This is one of those times when maybe he shouldn't be so brave."

"You're a fine one to talk about not being brave." Malfoy pulled out a white handkerchief and blew his nose.

He'd been there too many times in his life. "I've learned that sometimes nothing is going to help. Sometimes you just have to give in and cry."

Malfoy nodded and waved a hand at Harry. "I expect that my son has learned it as well. Sit. Ask."

Harry sat in the chair across from him and pulled out an auto-writing notebook. Not as obvious as a quick-quotes quill, it transcribed what each of them said, word for word. "Anything you can tell me, even something you don't think is important, could be helpful."

Malfoy closed his eyes for a moment, and then shook his head. "I can't think of anything right now. Can you be more specific?"

"Can you think of anyone who might want to hurt Astoria?"

"No. No one. Me, yes. Her? No one."

"Who would want to hurt you? I mean, the war has been over for twenty years." Despite what he thought of Malfoy, Harry had never heard even a hint of scandal about him, personally or more surprisingly, professionally. His investment brokerage was considered one of the best in all of Europe, and honest to a fault. Having a wife who was one of the top prosecuting solicitors probably kept him on the straight and narrow.

"Sweet Merlin, how did you get to be so old and stay so naïve? There are still people out there who know my family betrayed Voldemort to save your life." Malfoy's tone implied they would be out for his blood.

In general, Harry supposed he was right. His gut instinct said not in these circumstances. There was more to Astoria's murder than someone trying to get back at Malfoy for something he'd done in the war.

"Don't you think someone might have had a grudge against Astoria?" Harry asked.

Malfoy shook his head emphatically. "No. No one. Everyone loved her."

"Oh, come on, Malfoy. Now who's being naïve? She sent how many people to Azkaban in her career? Lots. If you'll remember, I'm the one who arrested them, and she's the one who prosecuted them. I'd be surprised if _they_ all loved her."

Malfoy leaned his head back against the sofa and closed his eyes. "You'd do better asking Hermione about that."

Harry started. "Hermione?"

One eye opened, and Malfoy turned his head towards Harry. "They do work together, you know?"

"Since when do you call her by her given name?" Because Hermione had never mentioned that she was on a first name basis with Draco bloody Malfoy.

"Would you rather I still called her a Mudblood?" Malfoy snapped, and then exhaled slowly. "You know, I'm really too tired for this. My wife was very fond of her. And as it happens, I call most adults I know by their first name. Except you and the Weasel."

Harry took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. As much as he'd like to call Malfoy on it, he was going to be the grownup and ignore the Weasel comment. "You know absolutely no one who might have cause to hurt Astoria? She didn't talk to you about her current cases or any cases in the past that concerned her?"

"She didn't talk a lot about work with me." Malfoy shrugged. "We left our jobs at the office. We had other, better things, to talk about."

Harry was running out of patience with this whole conversation. But he took a breath and reined in his annoyance. "When was the last time you saw Blaise Zabini?"

"Excuse me? What does he have to do with anything?" Malfoy glared at Harry, but his face was red.

"He may have used a similar spell in the past. Does he have a reason to want to hurt Astoria?"

"No. I haven't seen him in probably a decade."

"What did you see him about at that time?"

"As if it's any of your business --"

"As long as I'm in charge of this investigation, everything is my business." Harry raised a hand. "Just accept it and let's move on to why you were doing business with Zabini?"

"I wasn't doing business with him. I saw him at a party. We spoke. That was it. This is a useless conversation to be having."

"I think it's actually very interesting. So there is no connection between Astoria and Zabini? And you can't think of anyone who might want to hurt Astoria?"

"If I could think of someone, anyone, you can be sure I wouldn't be sitting here chatting with you about it. I'd be talking to them. Or not talking." There was a definite menace to Malfoy's tone.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Taking the law into your own hands will only get you into trouble."

"And I've never been in trouble before?" Malfoy had a good approximation of his old smirk on his face.

"I promise you, this is our top priority." Harry stood. His next stop was Zabini, and then Hermione, and maybe some dinner after that. No chance now that he'd find time for a nap. "When is the funeral?"

"What? The great Harry Potter deigns to come to a Malfoy's funeral?" Malfoy snarled, his eyes flashing with anger. "Or is this just another part of your investigation?"

Harry clamped down on his urge to snarl back. "It wouldn't be the first one I've attended, if you'll recall."

Malfoy let out a sigh, and looked down. "Forgive me. I'm not at my best. It's going to be Thursday. Not that it will matter to us, but we wanted to do it before next week."

"I understand. Both Albus and I will be there." Perhaps James and Lily might come even though they didn't know Scorpius as well. He was in their house at school.

* * *

Most days, Zabini could be found in the pub he owned right on the edge of Knockturn Alley. He fancied himself an old-world gangster, like something out of a Muggle movie. Harry would have found it amusing if he also hadn't been so deadly.

Harry pulled open the door to Zabini's pub and walked in. One of Zabini's goons made a grab for the back of Harry's robes.

"You don't want to be going in there, Auror," a big blond wizard said.

"Yes I do. I'm sure Blaise will want to see an old school chum," Harry pulled his wand and the guy backed up. It wasn't often that his reputation helped him. Mostly it meant that the mean and the stupid wanted to challenge him, but every now and then someone was wary enough to step aside.

Two more wizards came from behind the bar. "We really think maybe you should reconsider this," one said.

Harry wasn't in the mood for pleasantries so he shouldered his way past them and wisely they didn't follow him. Zabini was sitting in one of the booths in back, wearing dress robes in the middle of the day as if that could give him class.

"So, Blaise," Harry said sitting down next to him. "How are you this fine day?"

"Potter? What do you want?" Zabini's eyes were red-rimmed and his dark face had a grey cast to it. Maybe the clothes were from last night.

Apparently, there was no point in small talk with Zabini. "I'd like to ask you a few questions about Astoria Malfoy"

Blaise gave him a disgusted look. "Why? I had nothing to do with that. She's ...one of you." He waved his hand dismissively.

"The spell used on her was quite familiar. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?" Harry folded his arms across his chest. "Or the fact that she's successfully prosecuted four of your top people in the last eight years."

Blaise's face froze for one second. "No. I wouldn't. I've never used a spell like that. As for my alleged top people, none of those people were ever linked to me."

One of the things that had given Harry and the prosecutors heartburn was that Zabini's people were as loyal as Hufflepuffs. They would not give him up for love, money, or immunity. "And Jordan Periwinkle died of natural causes rather than his clothes exploding into flames."

"Nothing was ever proven." Blaise made a show of scratching his head. "Truthfully, I can't think of why you'd even think of me."

Harry forced himself not to grind his teeth. "Where did you get that spell?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Tell me about Astoria Malfoy," Harry said, watching Zabini's face carefully.

His expression didn't change at all. "You know her better than I do. I know who she is, of course, but I've never actually met her."

Harry didn't believe that for one second. And the longer he sat there, the more sure he was that Zabini had something to do with Astoria's death. "She was in Slytherin."

"Two years behind me. I doubt I said more than a dozen words to her the entire time I was at school."

"The school is so big that you missed her in the common room?" Harry met his eyes, daring him to continue.

Zabini shrugged. "She was beneath my notice."

There had to be a connection between them. "What about Draco?"

"What about him? I haven't seen him, not recently anyway. Besides, he's all squeakily clean and respectable now." Zabini made a face.

"Do I detect some resentment about Malfoy's respectability?"

"Vast amounts of his money bought him that respectability. Not that it's worth much." Blaise seemed to realize what he was saying and gave Harry a cold look. "I think it's time you left, Auror Potter."

One of his goons stepped up to the table. "Mr. Potter."

Harry was happy to ignore him. "I want some answers."

"I don't have any for you. I had nothing to do with this."

"When was the last time you saw Draco Malfoy?"

"I think we're done now. If you want anymore information, you can give my solicitor a call." Zabini stood and signaled one of the goons at the bar. "See you around, Potter."

Well, that was useful. Harry stood to leave. There wasn't much point in continuing. Zabini could afford to hire the best, and Harry wasn't going to get anything else out of him.

* * *

  
"What do you have for me?" Harry asked, walking into Hermione's office without knocking, and sitting down in front of her big desk.

Hermione's eyes were bloodshot, and she had dark circles under them. "Not much. I've identified the spell."

"Tell me it's the same spell that we think Blaise Zabini used on Jordan Periwinkle about four or five years ago. Do you remember?" Harry asked.

"I do." Her brow creased. "It's the same spell but much more sophisticated. The thing about that one was that it was cast by Zabini at the time of the incident. This was cursed in advance with a timing mechanism."

"How can you tell that?" Harry sat back and crossed one ankle over his knee.

"It was obvious that no one could have cast that spell at the ball because --"

"There's a magic dampening field on the ballroom. Of course. Too bad it only works on wand casting at that moment. Not on spells set somewhere else."

"A complete ward against magic mean no hover charms on the trays," Hermione said.

"I expect you're right about that." Harry sighed. It would make more sense to dampen all magic, if they really wanted to be secure, but as far as he knew there had never been an incident like this one. "I still think there's something going on between Zabini and Malfoy."

"Why would you think that?" Hermione focused on him, her expression neutral.

"I get the feeling they are both hiding something." It was only a feeling, but there had been something in both Malfoy's and Zabini's expression when they'd talked about each other.

"I can't imagine what. I'm sure Draco has had nothing to do with Zabini since school," Hermione said.

"How can you know that?"

"He'd have mentioned it if he did." She said it as if she didn't believe a connection was even possible.

For the moment, Harry let it go. When he had more he'd come back with it. Without evidence to back him up, Hermione would just ignore him. He rubbed the back of his neck. "What do you have on the spell?"

"It looks like the Medea curse." At Harry's blank look, she shook her head. "You know, the Muggle myth by Euripides? Jason leaves his barbarian wife for a younger, better-connected princess. She, Medea, is furious, and kills the new bride by cursing her wedding dress so that she's burned alive in it."

Harry shook his head. "Pretty damn gruesome. What does a Muggle myth have to do with this case?"

"Well, for one thing, Medea was real, and a powerful witch. She created the curse she used on the dress. It's an ancient pureblood curse. It had to have a timing mechanism built in. A couple of days at least."

"I hadn't considered that someone might be making a point with the curse. I wonder who Malfoy pissed off enough to try and kill his wife. Or maybe it was the other way 'round. Astoria sent a lot of people to Azkaban."

"True. But they have tracking spells on anyone who gets out of prison for years, sometimes for life."

"Then who?" Harry asked.

Hermione shook her head. "If you're asking me, I can't think of anyone off the top of my head. Astoria was happy with Draco. It seems unlikely, but maybe one of Draco's lovers. Or maybe one of Astoria's."

"Wait? What are you talking about?" Harry choked. "They had other lovers?"

Hermione laughed at him. "You're so provincial. They had an arranged marriage."

"And that makes it okay? You didn't think so when it was Ron." Which Harry admitted was a cheap shot.

Her jaw tightened, and her eyes narrowed. "Ron and I didn't have an arranged marriage, nor did we have any kind of arrangement. Draco and Astoria both agreed to this before they got married. Draco…well, let's just say he has the same taste in men that Astoria did. They used to joke about it."

"You've known about this, and never mentioned it?" Harry drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"It wasn't my business to say. Besides, it's not as if you've ever shown any interest in the Malfoys." She folded her arms over her chest, ready to defend them.

Horrified and feeling like that made him completely backward and unsophisticated, Harry still knew a losing conversation when he heard one. "I can see why Malfoy would agree to it. He needed an heir, and being gay isn't..." Harry shrugged.

It wasn't that homosexuality wasn't accepted exactly, more that among old pureblood families, it was not a consideration where marriage and children were concerned. "What I don't understand is what Astoria got out of it."

Hermione looked down and tapped her quill on her desk.

"Hermione? What?"

She shook her head. "It's not commonly known, but Astoria's father had some fairly substantial gambling debts --"

"And he sold his daughter to the Malfoys to pay them?" Harry blinked. Despite what he knew about family honor in pureblood families, this came as a shock.

"It was a mutually beneficial --"

"Like hell. I don't buy that for one second." Harry took a deep breath, and tamped down his reaction.

"Like you'd know since you've had, oh, what, three conversations with Malfoy in the past fifteen years and maybe six with Astoria. I was her friend, if you'll recall. I know she didn't have a problem with it."

"She gave up a chance for love."

"Grow up, Harry. Draco loved her. In his way. You saw him at the ball." She glared at him. "Besides, true love isn't all it's cracked up to be."

Harry wasn't going to comment on true love. He'd thought he'd had it, too, and in the end, fate hadn't been that kind to him. "You were a lot closer to them than you've ever said."

"Are you jealous, Harry?" Hermione snapped. She brushed a lock of wayward hair back from her face. It was almost the exact shade of chestnut brown that it had been at school, but the lines on her face, and especially around her eyes, showed her age and the stress in her life. "You know very well that I've been friends with Astoria for years. Of course, I know a lot about her and Draco. She knew a lot about me and Ron, too. Who do you think helped me through the divorce?"

"I thought I did. Just like you did for me." For which he was very grateful. There were no good circumstances for divorce, and the wizarding world made it twice as difficult. That they both had had famous marriages hadn't helped.

"You did. And I love you for it. But she was there for me, too. And I loved her for it." Hermione's eyes filled, and Harry felt like a shit.

He put a hand on her wrist. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have --"

"No. You shouldn't have." Hermione blinked, and her eyes cleared. "I want to find the person who did this to her."

So did Harry. The image of those flames and Astoria screaming helplessly would haunt his nightmares for a long time. "I'll need to talk to Malfoy about this. I can't believe he had an arranged marriage in this day and age. That's --"

"The way they still do things in old pureblood families. It's accepted. Draco was probably promised to someone when he was a baby, though it wasn't Astoria."

"I thought you said --"

"Astoria's family was allied with the Light. You know her mother was the sister of the French Minister of Magic?"

That was fairly common knowledge. "So what? Narcissa and Lucius arranged this after the war?" Harry guessed.

"Probably to give themselves a bit more respectability in the aftermath of everything. And it was probably Narcissa who did it. Despite his money, Lucius married up."

Harry would have paid a good many galleons to see Lucius Malfoy's face when someone told him that, but unfortunately, the possibility was long past. "You know an awful lot about this."

"Of course I do. I have to, in my profession. You should know more than you do." Her tone said she thought Harry was being deliberately dense.

He couldn't even argue with her, nor deny that he had a blind spot where Malfoy was concerned. "No doubt you're right. Look, do you want to get some dinner?"

"Leaky?" Hermione stood and reached for her coat.

"Good enough."

* * *

"You know, I think the curse had to be woven into the robes," Hermione said, as she took a spoonful of her stew. "But that just can't be."

Harry looked up from his fish and chips. "Why not?"

"Because both Astoria and I had our dress robes made at Madam Malkin's at the same time."

"And that would preclude the curse being woven into the fabric?"

"Yes. You pay a dressmaker to put certain protective spells on your clothes. But you always check them before you put them on the first time." Hermione said it in that 'this is perfectly logical' tone that drove Harry round the twist.

"And they couldn't just substitute a curse."

"Not without someone being able to tell."

"Assuming Astoria checked the robes before she put them on."

"Everyone checks."

"No. You check. I've never even thought to check something like that. And I've never been told to do so."

"You're so powerful that you'd be able to sense it without an active check. Actually, Astoria was sensitive enough to detect Dark magic. And even if she weren't, Draco would have been able to tell."

"Malfoy?" Harry had never thought of him as particularly strong magically. Not that he thought about him all that much.

Hermione shook her head. "Did you never wonder why Scorpius was so powerful? He inherited his ability from _both_ of his parents."

Anytime anyone mentioned the boy, Harry wondered what he'd missed. "I can't believe he was sorted --" Harry didn't finish that.

"Scorpius is a sweet boy."

"If he weren't Malfoy's son --"

"He'd be a perfect friend for Al?"

Harry looked down. "I'm just not crazy about Malfoy."

"I've always wondered about your active dislike of him. He's changed so much since we were in school. _Twenty years ago._ You know, it reminds me of your active dislike of someone else." She smirked at him. "Who also had blond hair."

It was one of the most humiliating times in his life and Harry sincerely wished that people wouldn't bring it up anymore. "Don't even go there. I'm serious. Besides, it's nothing like Preston Fawlks. I actually have a reason to dislike Malfoy."

"Of course you do." Hermione continued to smile at him.

"It's not like that at all. Fawlks happened years ago." Harry could feel his face going red, and he wanted to be angry at her, but he couldn't.

All of his mistakes were common knowledge. And this one was one of the worst. How was he supposed to know his active dislike for a colleague was actually an attraction? He hadn't had enough experience with anything to recognize it. At that point, there had only ever been Ginny.

Her expression sobered. "You were pretty damned dense about why you didn't like Fawlks. And there could have been some serious repercussions from it."

He knew that no one was _ever_ going to let him forget it. "It's in the past. My relationship with Preston didn't even last a year."

"I never said he wasn't an arse. But he didn't deserve to be persecuted because you were attracted to him."

Harry put his head in his hands. "I should have realized sooner."

"Yes. But that's part of your charm." She looked at her watch. "Ron's got the kids tonight, so I need to get going. I've got a bunch of errands to run."

"Right. See you tomorrow."

She stood. And looked back at him. "Do you think I should go to Molly and Arthur's for Christmas dinner this year?"

"I've been going for years, you might as well." Of course, his relationship with Ginny had ended on much better terms than Hermione's relationship had with Ron.

"Ron isn't crazy about me being there, but I want the kids to be with their whole family."

Harry understood. The entire situation had become so damned hard. He loved Ron, but he hated what he'd done to Hermione and his family. Every interaction between any of the three of them was so difficult these days.

* * *

"Madam Malkin, thank you for seeing me." Harry sat down in the small office at the back of her shop.

"I'm always willing to help the MLE." She folded her hands on her neat desk.

Every time he came into the shop, he remembered the first time, standing on the dais being fitted for his first set of school robes. He was always amazed that Madam Malkin looked the same now as she had when he was eleven. Harry knew that magical folks aged more slowly than Muggles, but that didn't stop his wonder at seeing her not age.

"I wanted to ask you about the dress robes you made for Astoria Malfoy."

Madam Malkin's face went pale. "I heard about what happened at the ball. Tragic that. I can't believe it. But you don't suspect the curse came from my store, do you?"

"I'm just checking all the possibilities," Harry said noncommittally.

"Of course. I did the major spell work on that dress, on both Mrs. Malfoy's and Mrs. ...Miss Granger's robes. The hem and sizing was done by my assistant Flora Williamson. Shall I call her for you?"

"Yes, please." Harry smiled at her.

She went to the door, and called out, "Flora," quite sharply. "She's very lazy, that one," she whispered to Harry.

A thin woman, with dark hair, came into the room. Her black robe was simple and non-descript, not at all what Harry would have expected to find in a high-end shop.

Between Auror training and his own ability to sense magic, it was easy for him to tell she was wearing a Glamour. It was like an irritation on the edge of his consciousness when he looked at her. He could almost see it. But the Glamour was an obvious one and cosmetic, probably cast to make her look younger.

"Mr. Potter would like to ask you some questions. I expect you to answer them honestly." Madam Malkin's tone was chiding, as if she were speaking to a child, and a not very bright one at that.

Flora didn't seem to notice her tone at all. She looked up at Harry for a second, and something flashed in her eyes, but before Harry could tell what it was, she lowered her gaze and said, "Yes, ma'am."

"Sit," Harry said, pointing to the second chair. "Can you leave us for a few minutes, Madam Malkin?"

She hesitated, but then nodded. "Of course. I'll be out front."

"Miss Williamson, before we start, please drop the Glamour?" It was probably harmless, but investigations failed in the details.

She looked up at him, balefully. "I'd rather not. It's not pretty."

"That's okay. You can't shock me." He'd seen what the war had done to so many people. Scars were the least of it. "Go ahead."

With a deep sigh, she pulled her wand. "Finite Incantatem."

The scars on her face were ugly, but Harry didn't even wince. He also didn't recognize her. "Where did you go to school, Miss Williamson."

"Hogwarts. Two years ahead of you. In Hufflepuff."

Harry noted the information and would check it out. "Thanks. You can put the Glamour back if you'd like."

When she had, he asked, "You worked on the robes that Astoria Malfoy wore to the Yule ball?"

"Which robes were those?" she asked, eyes darting around the office. "I fit ten to twenty people a day, Mr. Potter. I can't remember what everyone chooses, and I don't fit everyone either."

Harry sighed. "Mrs. Malfoy's dress was green, with white trim."

"Yes. I remember now. I did the hem and fittings. I didn't do the spell work or the sewing," Flora said quietly, not meeting Harry's gaze.

"Who does the sewing?" Harry asked.

"That depends. For a regular customer such as Mrs. Malfoy, we have the charms set up with her measurements. We just need to cast them and then the fit needs to be checked, and possibly adjusted."

Harry tried to look as if it all made sense to him. "Were there any special protections or spells woven into the robes?"

"No. We add spells to protect against stains and damage to the garment, but unless we're asked, we don't do any kind of special protection."

"All right. Thank you for your time." Harry stood.

On his way out, he smiled at Madam Malkin. "I appreciate your time." He pulled open the door and then looked back at her. "Does Blaise Zabini use your shop?"

She shook her head. "I haven't seen him since he was fitted for his school robes in his seventh year at Hogwarts. Must be twenty years now. His mother came in until a few years ago. I'd heard she died."

Esmeralda Zabini's death had made all the papers. It was ironic that her tenth husband, who was much younger than her, had inherited much of her fortune.

* * *

Astoria Malfoy's funeral was well attended. She had been a pillar of the community and worked tirelessly for reforms. One of the eulogies was given by the Minister of Magic, another by the head of the prosecution staff, and a third by Hermione. After the funeral, he and Hermione and Albus paid a call to Malfoy Manor. Harry asked James to take Lily back to their mother's.

Wizarding tradition said that the family gathered after the funeral for two or three days and received visitors. Those that came usually brought something home-cooked, and didn't stay for longer than an hour or two.

As soon as they arrived, Albus went upstairs to see Scorpius and Hermione took a casserole that she'd made into the kitchen, and offered it to Narcissa with the refreshments. Harry found it hard to believe that Narcissa had changed enough to allow Hermione to help. Perhaps being out from under Lucius' influence for all these years had allowed her to see things differently. Or more likely, she went with the prevailing political winds.

"Thank you for bringing Albus over. I think Scorpius needs to have his friends around just now," Malfoy said, appearing at Harry's side, startling him. He'd had been leaning against the wall in the library, out of the main throng of visitors.

"Al asked to come over. I hadn't realized they were that close." Even though Harry had never said a word about Al's friendship with Scorpius, it was obvious that Al knew or sensed the enmity Harry felt toward the older Malfoy. But he wasn't about to deny Scorpius the comfort of a friend because he didn't like his father.

Malfoy smile said it wasn't a surprise to him. "Same house, same year."

"Same propensity for getting into trouble?" It seemed all of his children had inherited that from him. Harry couldn't find it in his heart to object. In fact, he was glad his kids lived in a world where it was safe for them to get into regular kid kinds of trouble. Where none of them would be required to kill a basilisk at the age of twelve or fight a dragon at fourteen or kill a Dark Wizard at seventeen.

"Oh, I expect that's true of anyone in Gryffindor," said Malfoy clearly amused. "Did you know that Scorpius is the first Malfoy in fifteen generations to be sorted into Gryffindor?"

"You must be so proud," Harry said with a perfectly straight face.

That got a small smile out of Malfoy. "Right. I'm sure his grandfather is turning over in his grave about now." The smile faded quickly.

Harry wished there was something he could say that would help. But really, nothing would help, at least for a while. "It doesn't have to be now, but I'd like to ask you a few follow-up questions."

"Now is as good a time as any. Let's go upstairs to my office. My mother can handle everyone here." Malfoy held out a hand towards the staircase. "The constant sympathy is wearing."

While most of the rooms on the lower level were enormous, the upstairs office was cozy with light wooden furniture, and big windows that looked out on the extensive gardens.

Harry sat down on the sofa, and Malfoy took the chair across from him. He caught a whiff of Malfoy's cologne and had the most ridiculous and inappropriate urge to bury his face in Malfoy's neck and breathe in that woodsy scent. Appalled at himself, he forced his focus back on Malfoy.

"I understand that you and Astoria had an arrangement? That you each had other lovers." Harry was pleased that he managed not to sound disapproving. It wasn't his place to even have an opinion.

"We had an arranged marriage. Even now, it's hardly uncommon." Malfoy shrugged as if it were no big deal. Maybe it wasn't to him.

"I'm surprised. You seemed so...devastated." Harry hadn't meant to put it quite that way. Not to imply that Malfoy hadn't cared, but Harry had believed him to be the grieving lover, which clearly he wasn't.

Malfoy's eyes flashed and his nostrils flared. He visibly took a breath. "Astoria was my wife. More than that, she was my best friend. She's the mother of my son. I was with her for sixteen years. How would you feel if it were Hermione?"

Harry's heart thudded and he sat back. It had been years since he'd even thought about losing Hermione or Ron for that matter, but during the war, it had been such a real possibility that he'd had nightmares about it for years afterward. "Right, then. She felt the same way about your lovers?"

Closing his eyes, Malfoy took another breath, but said nothing.

"I know it's personal." He could see this wasn't easy for Malfoy, and Harry felt bad having to ask.

Finally, Malfoy let out a sigh. "Of course she did. After we had done our duty, we were free to discreetly go our own ways."

Harry looked down and then forced himself to look back up. He felt the same as he had when he'd been talking to Hermione about this. "Tell me about her lovers?"

"Astoria tended towards men who were also in arranged marriages. None of them would have done this."

"You know them?" It never occurred to him that they would be so open, that Malfoy wouldn't care at all who knew about their affairs and lovers.

"Of course I do," Draco snapped. "There wasn't any sneaking around between us. Her lovers came down to breakfast just like mine did."

This was so far out of his realm of experience that Harry had no idea what to say.

Fortunately, Malfoy went on, "And before you ask, none of the men I saw would have done it either." He looked at Harry and raised an eyebrow.

"How exactly do you know that?" Harry asked. Malfoy shouldn't be so sure about every single person he'd slept with.

"I wouldn't be involved with a man who would be capable of hurting someone like that. Or at all."

"You would know, now would you?" Harry asked, having to work at keeping his voice in the neutral range.

"Of course I would. How do you think I avoided --" Malfoy's face went dull red.

"Avoided what?"

"None of your business what." Malfoy wasn't even looking at him.

"I suggest you finish that sentence." Harry folded his arms over his chest. Even if he had to sit here all night, he was going to get an answer to that question.

Malfoy glared at him, but then sighed. "About ten years ago, I almost got involved with Blaise Zabini."

"How do you almost get involved with someone?" Harry asked, carefully.

"He came onto me at a party. I was...intrigued. But before I get involved with anyone I have..." Malfoy closed his eyes and exhaled shakily. "...had Astoria run a check on them. That was when I found out he was involved with organized crime. I backed off. Now that I think of it, Astoria actually worked on several cases against his people."

"I did know that." Harry'd known there had to be a connection. "He just let you back off? Had no problem with it?"

"He didn't have a choice. It's not like I slept with him." Malfoy's glower was reminiscent of Professor Snape. "You're not surprised that I prefer men, are you?"

"Pricilla Chambers mentioned it." Though, he had to admit that it was pretty odd that he didn't know this. The wizarding world's gay community wasn't that big.

"I had assumed that was common knowledge as well. At least as commonly known as your preferences." Malfoy's tone wasn't disparaging. Though given everything, it would have been very hypocritical if it had been.

Either way, Harry was just going to ignore that. He forced a self-deprecating laugh. "Obviously, I'm quite dense when it comes to these sorts of things."

Malfoy shook his head. "It's rather amazing you're as good an Auror as you are."

When Harry raised an eyebrow at the comment, Malfoy laughed. "Everyone knows how good an Auror you are. All those cases you've solved. Don't look at me like that, you know very well that you can't take a piss without it being reported in the _Prophet _."

As much as he hated that it was true, Harry'd learned over the years that there was no getting away from it. "So, can you tell me the names of Astoria's most recent lovers?"

"Lover. One at a time. And he's here, now. Answorth Decker. They've been together for a few years now. He also has an arrangement with his wife, Marianna. She's here as well. As it happens, she prefers women, so it worked out well for both of them. I've also done business with him. He's an excellent security spells craftsman."

The matter-of-fact way with which he said it shocked Harry. And it must have showed on his face because Malfoy jaw tightened.

"What?" Malfoy asked, his tone cool. "Most arranged marriages don't take preference into account since once the children are born, it's expected you'll go your own way."

"What about love?"

"What about it? If you find it, you're lucky. But you don't mean just love, do you? Merlin, you are idealistic, aren't you?" Malfoy shook his head, clearly amused. "We are all raised to believe that our duty to our family comes before anything else. If you'll remember, my mother thought nothing of lying to Voldemort to find me."

Harry did remember that. She'd saved his life. It was one of the mitigating factors when he'd testified at the elder Malfoys' trials. "The whole thing seems cold-hearted...."

"I don't agree. Family is very important."

"What if you fell in love?"

Malfoy looked right at Harry. "I've been in love."

Harry had to wonder who it was that put that wounded look on Malfoy's face. Maybe he'd felt more for Zabini than he'd said. It wasn't any of Harry's business; how could it cause the heaviness in his chest? "Didn't you want to spend your life with that person?"

"He wasn't free. But that's neither here nor there. If he were interested, I could have loved him forever, and my wife would have been happy for me." Malfoy's voice cracked and he looked down.

"I'm sorry," Harry said. "I just have a few more questions."

Malfoy rubbed the back of his neck. "What else?"

"What about your lovers?"

"My last lover and I parted company about five, maybe six months ago. He took a position in the States. We parted amicably. I've not found anyone else. Shall I give you his name and Floo address?"

"Yes, please." Harry couldn't imagine accepting that way of life. It didn't seem sophisticated to him; it seemed heartless. His marriage to Ginny might not have worked out the way they'd hoped, but he'd believed he was in love with her when he'd married her. Still, it wasn't his place to make judgments on how other people lived.

"Do you have some moral objection to our arrangement?" Malfoy sounded as if he hoped Harry did so they could fight about it.

But Harry wasn't interested in a row. Not about this, anyway. "It's all so very worldly and sophisticated."

"You say that as if it were a bad thing."

"I waited until I was divorced from Ginny before I had sex with anyone else." And as difficult as it was to wait, it was the right thing to do.

Malfoy's expression softened and he slowly smiled. "I wouldn't have expected anything else from you. Pity the Weasel doesn't have your integrity."

"Don't call him that," Harry snapped. But in this case, he agreed with Malfoy. Ron couldn't have been anymore of a bull in a china shop, smashing his marriage to pieces with a total lack of forethought. It was thoughtless and cruel. Not that Harry wanted Ron to stay with Hermione if he was unhappy, Harry had lived through that himself, but he hadn't needed to rub her nose in it either. It had put a chasm in their relationship that even twenty-five years of friendship couldn't mend. "Is there anything else you can tell me?"

"Nothing, really. I'll owl you that Floo address. I need to dig it out of my files."

"Thank you for your cooperation," Harry said as he stood. "May I use your office to speak to Answorth Decker and his wife before I leave?"

Draco bowed slightly. "As you please. I doubt they know anything."

Harry preceded him out the door.

* * *

"So, have you found out anything?" Hermione came into Harry's office and made herself a cup of tea.

"Nothing. I'm still checking the Deckers out, but there is no motive. And Jackson Pretell, Malfoy's ex, hasn't left the States since he arrived five months ago. I'm also looking for a connection between Malfoy and Zabini. I can't find it."

"Are you sure there is one?" Hermione sat down in the comfortable chair in front in his desk and took a sip of her tea.

"When he found out that Zabini was involved with organized crime, Malfoy dumped him. About ten-twelve years ago."

Hermione looked up at him over the rim of her cup. "I didn't know that."

"I think Malfoy's embarrassed about it. Which, I think, makes Zabini even more of a suspect."

"Could be. If he really cared about Draco. Which, I don't think is the case. With what we know about Zabini, I'm more inclined to believe he was looking for a Galleon laundering operation. I'm pretty sure he was trying to expand his operation about then. The investment firm would have been quite a coup."

"And Astoria took an interest and tried to dismantle Zabini's operation," Harry said.

"She made a dent, but not a big one," Hermione said, pulling a parchment out of the pocket of her robes, and taking a quill off Harry's desk to make notes. "Do you want me to check it out for you?"

Harry laughed. She was always ready to take charge, sometimes to the point of forgetting that he was the investigator. "It really only counts if I get the answers myself. Rather like being in school."

She looked up at him and smiled. "Except that you didn't pay that much attention in school."

"That last year I did. When McGonagall let us come back for seventh year, I felt like I had to." Harry had thrown himself into school, Quidditch, and dating Ginny with a vengeance. He had been determined to have a normal life no matter what. Maybe if he'd spent some time thinking about what he'd actually wanted, he might not have made so many mistakes along the way. Or maybe, that was just part of the process.

"I suppose you did. You'd not have got into Auror training without the N.E.W.T.s," Hermione said.

He'd never told anyone that Kingsley had taken him aside at one of the awards dinners, and told him that he didn't have to sit his N.E.W.T.s to get into Auror training. That offer had only made Harry more determined to do well on them. "Right. Was there another reason you were in my office today?"

She laughed. "I just wanted to know what you're doing about Christmas dinner."

"I told you I was going to Molly and Arthur's for dinner. On Boxing Day, I'm taking Albus over to see Scorpius. What about you?"

"It's going to be hard with Ron there --"

"He's not going to bring her," Harry assured her, even as he said it he wasn't exactly sure. Ron was being a right arse these days. If worse came to worse, he'd speak to Molly.

"I hope not, but he doesn't have the sense God gave a goose," said Hermione sadly.

"I know. But even he won't be that thoughtless." And Harry had every intention of making sure of that as soon as Hermione was out of his office.

Hermione put her head in her hands, and for one moment, Harry was afraid she was crying. Not that she didn't deserve to cry about what Ron had done to her, but he always felt so helpless when she did. "Hermione?"

She looked up and her eyes were clear. "I'm okay. It's just...hard. It's hard for the kids, too."

"Yeah. I know. It's hard even when it's your fault." Harry looked down. It had been six years at this point, and he still felt guilty about how it had ended with Ginny.

"It wasn't so much your fault as it was circumstances. In this case, it's Ron's fault. And he..." She shrugged. "I don't know what he is."

"An idiot, perhaps," Harry suggested.

She laughed and stood up. "Definitely that. I'll be going by Draco's on Boxing Day, too."

* * *

Harry knelt by the fire and tossed in some powder. "Ron," he called.

"Harry. It's good to hear from you, mate." Ron's head appeared in the flames, and smiled at Harry, looking far too glad to see him.

It wasn't that Harry wasn't glad to see Ron, too. But.... "I...I just wanted to talk to you about what you were doing for Christmas dinner."

"Oh." Ron's smile dimmed a little. "I thought you were going to my mum's."

"I am. But I wanted to make sure...you know. That Hermione wouldn't be..." Harry took a breath. "That you weren't going to bring..."

"Sandra?" Ron's friendly tone had changed completely now, into something colder. "It shouldn't matter who I bring to my mum's for dinner."

Under normal circumstances, that might be true. "It's Christmas. Time for families and all. And Hermione wants to spend it with --"

"If she wants something, then she should have bloody well asked, rather than sending you to do her dirty work," Ron snapped.

"She doesn't know I'm asking."

"And why not?"

"Because, she'd just put up with it, like she always does." That was part of the problem, too. Hermione had ignored what was going on -- he couldn't believe she actually didn't know -- until Ron had flaunted it in her face.

"I can't help that she likes to suffer." He could hear that Ron was gearing up for a row.

Harry gritted his teeth. He wasn't interested in fighting. Not tonight. Not ever really. Nothing good was going to come of it. "But you don't have to add to it."

Ron let out a sigh. "What do you want me to do? I don't want Sandra to have to spend Christmas alone. I want her to meet my family."

"So, you'll make them and your wife uncomfortable."

"Ex-wife. Why is everyone on her side, anyway? She left me."

"Don't be an arse. You were the one who --" Harry stopped. There was no point in going over this again. "I just think maybe you should think about it before you bring...Sandra."

"Right. It's been six months, you know. It's not like the situation will just go away because you and everyone else wants it to."

"You were married for --"

"I know how long I was married. What you don't know is --"

"Ron, we've been over this before. I don't want to know."

"I'm sure Hermione has told you all about it."

"Actually, I didn't want to hear it from her, either." Not that she'd ever tried to tell him anything. "No matter how many hours she worked, no matter how much more money she made than you did, nothing justifies it. I'm sorry."

"Merlin, but you're so morally righteous." Ron sounded so damned bitter, as if his own actions hadn't caused this situation.

Harry had no patience for that attitude. There was a right way and a wrong way to do things. "I've been there, Ron."

"You know, not everyone is a fucking saint, Harry." Ron shook his head. "I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"I guess I'll see you at dinner," Harry said, ready to be done with the call. His stomach already hurt.

Ron sighed. "Sandra is going to her mother's."

"You couldn't have told me that before, so we didn't have to argue about it?"

"Since the only time you talk to me is when we argue...."

"I'm sorry." It should not be this difficult to find common ground, but Ron had stepped over a line that Harry couldn't even begin to understand.

"No. I am. I wish there was an easy way to...you know, deal with this."

"There isn't. It will work itself out in time. But six months isn't long enough." Harry wasn't sure that six years would be enough.

"I guess not." Ron looked like he might want to say something else, but then he just shook his head.

"I'll see you at dinner," Harry said again and cut off the Floo connection. He sat back on his knees and looked up at the ceiling. "Why does it always have to be so hard?" he asked his empty office.

* * *

"Ginny, I'm very happy for you," Harry said as he sat down on the low stone fence outside the Burrow after Christmas dinner.

"Are you?" Her voice was hard, brittle.

"Yes, of course I am. I hope you'll both be very happy." He looked at her in the dim light, wishing he could see her expression better. "Did you think I wouldn't be?"

"I could hope." She took a breath and didn't meet his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"No. I am." He wanted to reach out and take her hand, but that would probably only exacerbate the situation.

"You can't help what you are any more than I can. And I think I'll be happy with Donnell." The hope in her voice cheered Harry some.

"He seems very nice. I hope he gives you --"

"What you couldn't?" She didn't sound bitter anymore, but he supposed that she'd never truly forgive him.

"I wouldn't have chosen to be this way." He'd never said it out loud, and maybe he shouldn't now. But it still made his chest tight to think how badly he'd hurt her. She didn't deserve it. All she'd ever done was love him.

"I know. If we'd been smarter..." She shook her head. "But we weren't. It's too easy to say that we should have done something different now."

This was old ground. But every time the reason their marriage failed came up, Harry hoped there'd be a new way to get to the center. "I never questioned that my life after Voldemort would be a certain way. I held on tightly to that --"

"Until you couldn't anymore." She smiled, sadly.

"I think I might have figured it out sooner if...if I'd let myself consider other possibilities." He'd had this idea in his mind for his whole life about what a normal life would be like, and he thought he'd found it with Ginny. Only wanting something didn't necessarily mean that you got it.

"You didn't know. And when you did figure it out, at least you were honest. It's one of the reasons I could forgive you."

"Which I'm glad about." He sighed, then continued, "Ron and Hermione can't look at each other. I think it will be a while before Hermione comes back."

"At least he didn't bring _her_ with him. Merlin, I hope he doesn't plan to marry her." There was no question of accepting Ron's girlfriend.

Pretty much, Harry understood that. It would be a long time before any of them found their way in this situation. "I haven't talked to him about it. I hope not, too."

"Ron is an arse. What's that Muggle saying, he wanted to have his cake and eat it too. I'm glad you had the integrity to wait until...."

"You're the second person to say that to me in a week." Harry was glad to be off the topic of Ron, even if he'd been the one to bring it up.

Ginny raised an eyebrow, looking rather amused. "Who was the first?"

"Draco Malfoy."

"How are things going with the investigation?" she asked, but there was something else there in her voice.

Could it be more than the general dislike of Malfoy that they both shared? "It's going slowly. I can't really talk about it yet."

"And dealing with Malfoy?" Ginny asked.

The tone of her question was off. He didn't care for it at all. "What about him? What are you implying?"

"Nothing. What did you think I was implying?" She looked up sharply. "Wait. Is something going on between you and Malfoy?"

Harry's heart raced. Where had she got that from? "No! Of course not. He just lost his wife. Besides, it's not like that?"

Ginny looked down, and he could see she was trying not to smile. "Um...then what is it like?"

"Don't ask, okay. Just don't." He couldn't bear another innuendo. Harry didn't want to think about it yet. Okay, so he knew he'd have to at some point soon, but it didn't have to be today. Or tomorrow.

"If you're this defensive, you must be thinking about him." She sounded like she was holding back a laugh.

"I'm not attracted to Draco bloody Malfoy. Okay. I'm not." Harry winced. Maybe that wasn't the smartest thing he'd ever said. And yes, he knew that denying it wouldn't make it any less true. If it were true. Which it wasn't.

"Of course, you're not." Ginny's smile said she knew him too damned well.

"What is it with everyone? Do you want me to be involved with him?" He was sure that no one actually wanted that. They all just wanted to torment him about it.

"I'd like to see you happy. And if that means you're with Draco Malfoy that would be okay."

And Harry's heart warmed at her words. "How can you say that? It's Draco Malfoy we're talking about."

"Because Draco's changed over the years and really, you should already know that."

Harry's first inclination was to deny it, but the truth was he had no idea what he thought anymore.

* * *

Malfoy opened the door for Harry and Albus on Boxing Day. He was dressed casually in just trousers and a jumper. His hair was bound at the nape of his neck with a silver snake clasp that reminded Harry of the one Lucius had worn.

It occurred to Harry rather stupidly that the blond hair, the grey eyes, and slender body all added up to a very attractive package. Could he possibly think of anything more inappropriate right now? Sweet Merlin, why was he noticing at all?

"Potter, Albus, good to see both of you. Happy Christmas." He held out his hand to Harry.

A spark of pleasure jumped in Harry as his hand connected with Malfoy's. "And to you."

"Do come in," Malfoy said, leading them through the foyer.

"Are we early?" There was no one else in the drawing room.

"No. I just wasn't up to having people over this year. But Scorpius wanted to have Albus over." Malfoy turned to Albus. "He's upstairs if you want to go up."

"Thanks," Albus said as he bounded towards the stairs.

"Not even your mother?"

"She has friends on the continent. I just couldn't deal with any more people." For a moment, Malfoy's eyes shined and he looked as if he'd admitted some great weakness.

If it had been anyone else, Harry would have put a hand on their arm for comfort. The moment passed and Harry regretted not doing anything. "I can leave if you'd like to be alone."

Malfoy shook his head. "Hermione insisted she'd be by later. Why don't you sit down, and I'll get you a drink."

Harry sat on the sofa. "Where are your house-elves?"

"They get Boxing Day off." Malfoy chuckled. "The look on your face? Don't you give your elves time off?"

"I don't have any. But when we did, we paid them and they got every Sunday off."

"I've tried to pay mine. They refused. It annoyed the hell out of Astoria." Malfoy's laugh sounded forced, now.

Harry took the cup of eggnog that Malfoy handed him and sipped it. "This is very good. Thanks. She and Hermione were a lot a like."

Instead of sitting down, Malfoy knelt beside the hearth and started to light a fire. "They were. You know, if she could have done, I've always suspected that my mother would have arranged a marriage with Hermione for me. Mum was looking for a woman who would bolster up the family name. And Hermione had more cachet at the end of the war than any other witch alive."

Harry would have said that Hermione deserved better than that, but really, she hadn't done so well with true love, either. "At the time, I doubt you could have talked her into an arranged marriage. How would you have felt about that?"

"Then," Malfoy paused and turned back to the fire to light the kindling. It started to burn brightly. "I think I would have had a problem with it, but I would have tried to do right by her."

At Harry's incredulous look, Malfoy laughed. After another second, he stood and brushed off his trousers. "I won't say it would have been easy, but I'd like to think I would have grown up enough to have made it work."

Harry tried not to notice how long his legs looked. Or how well his shirt fit. "I remember you from then, and I'm sorry, but that boy wouldn't have been able to --"

"You didn't know me then. Especially the couple of years right before and after the war."

Harry bit his lip. Malfoy was right. He'd been too involved in what was happening to really have paid more than peripheral attention to Malfoy. "So, what happened to change you so much?"

"Voldemort. He asked me to do the unthinkable. He threatened me and my family. That and I saw my father's loyalty thrown back in his face." Malfoy looked down. "It broke him."

"So, you had some great epiphany?"

Malfoy folded his arms over his chest and met Harry's eyes. "There's nothing like having all of the beliefs you held dear proved wrong over and over. Voldemort betrayed everyone who followed him. Completely." He took a breath and went on, "It's hard to believe in the superiority of wizards when the person espousing it betrays everyone you love. You, on the other hand, pulled my arse out of the fire, literally. You, who had every right to hate me and want to leave me to die, didn't."

"By that point, too many people had already died. And no one else was going to if I could do anything to stop it."

"You were always so innocent. Oh, hell, you still are."

Harry's face heated. "I'm not. I've been doing this job too long to have any innocence left."

"Maybe that's not the right word, but you always do what's right, no matter what." Malfoy said it as if he were impressed with it.

"I couldn't live with myself if I didn't," said Harry, hoping he didn't sound too self-righteous.

"Most people don't care that much." Malfoy sounded weary, as if he knew the truth of it. "I've learned that doing the right thing is a necessity."

"I'm not sure that's the same thing."

"It's not, but it's as close as someone like me is going to come."

"How long did it take you to realize that Voldemort's beliefs were wrong?"

"I really started to think about it right before the final battle at Hogwarts -- after that rescue. By the time I married Astoria, I had realized just how wrong that madman was."

"I've always thought it was she who convinced you." Not that he'd thought much about Malfoy in those days, or at all, really.

"I doubt she would have married me if she thought I still believed in pureblood superiority." Malfoy smirked. "Getting to know Hermione over the years just proved the point pretty categorically."

That sentence alone drove home how much Malfoy had changed. Harry felt like an idiot for not noticing it sooner. He was a better investigator than that. "She's pretty amazing, isn't she."

"Which is why I'd love to hex the Weasel. She deserved so much better. How could he do that to her?"

"I don't know," Harry said. He'd thought about Ron and his resentments a lot in the last year, and he still couldn't get past the fact that Ron had betrayed his best friend with a breach of trust so great they wouldn't get over it.

"I wouldn't have traded Astoria for anyone, but I do wonder what it might have been like to have been married to Hermione. Not that it would have changed me, but...." Malfoy shrugged.

"At the time, it wouldn't have happened," Harry said. "And it's too soon to be thinking about that now." In truth, he didn't like the idea of Malfoy marrying again, at all.

Malfoy looked down. "I won't ever marry again. I have nothing to offer this time that would compensate for what I can't give."

"You wouldn't like to have more children?"

"Merlin, no. I love my son more than my own life, but I do not want to have any more, thank you very much." He looked closely at Harry. "Don't tell me you want more."

Harry's face flushed. Could he help it if he'd loved raising his kids? "I guess that would be greedy, wouldn't it?"

Malfoy laughed again and sat beside him. "You're amazing."

Whatever cologne Malfoy was wearing smelled like the forest after a rain, earthy and clean. Every time Harry caught that scent, he had the worst desire to lean over and bury his face in Malfoy's neck. He blinked and felt his cheeks start to heat yet again. "Too bad you don't mean that in a good way."

"Oh, I don't know about that." Malfoy cleared his throat. "How is the investigation going?"

Harry was very aware of how close Malfoy was sitting to him and the heat radiating off Malfoy was making him sweat. "Slowly. And I can't tell you much."

Malfoy's gaze was hot and direct and intense.

Between one breath and the next, Harry focused on Malfoy, not on what he was saying, but on his hair, on his desire to see it unbound, falling over his bare back. It would be so soft and silky as it sifted through his fingers. He'd gather it up in his hands and bury his face in it, breathing in the smell. And he'd just bet it smelled exotic, something subtle, not too over powering or too perfumey....

Malfoy snapped his fingers in front of Harry's face. "You haven't heard a word I've said, have you?"

"Um...." Harry was too old to blush this badly and this often. What had he been thinking? Harry closed his eyes. It was so far beyond inappropriate that he wanted the floor to swallow him up.

Harry stood. "I should go."

"No." Something that looked like disappointment crossed Malfoy's face. "You just got here. And I'm sure Albus doesn't want to leave just yet."

Albus. Fuck. He'd been so wrapped up in Malfoy that he'd forgotten about his son. "Right. I'll just go up and --"

Malfoy stood, and caught hold of his arm, slanting him a confused look. "What is the problem? Have I offended you?"

"No. No. I just remembered...." What? He had to think of something polite and he couldn't, for the life of him, come up with a plausible lie. And the truth was out of the question.

Malfoy's laugh was full throated and faintly hysterical. Like he might start to sob in a second. "Oh, bloody hell, I can't believe this. Now? After everything? Merlin, this is such terrible timing."

Harry raised his eyes to Malfoy's. "I don't follow you."

"Of course you don't." His smirk faded. "You really don't, do you?"

No, Harry wasn't that clueless, but he was at a loss as to what he should do. Or say. Malfoy was miles ahead of him on this one.

Malfoy slowly raised his hand to Harry's cheek, his calloused fingers caressing across Harry's mouth.

He should protest. Should say this was wrong on so many levels that it didn't even bear thinking about. But he couldn't think at all. His mouth was too dry to form words. Trembling, his whole body tightening, Harry closed his eyes. Oh great Merlin, he wanted to kiss Draco Malfoy more than he wanted his next breath.

Keeping his eyes closed became impossible. His breath hitching, he watched as Malfoy leaned closer and closer. Harry's heart pounded harder, faster.

It took a million years for Malfoy's mouth to finally get to his, brushing softly across his lips, before drawing back. Someone made a whimpering sound, and Harry was humiliatingly sure it wasn't Malfoy who'd done it.

One of Malfoy's hand's moved around Harry's shoulders to draw him nearer and the other hand slid into his hair, long fingers carding through it.

He kissed Harry again, this time much more deeply.

Harry leaned into the touch. The sense of rightness made him shiver, made him ache. He wrapped his own arms around Malfoy's shoulders, pulling him even closer.

As quickly as the kiss started, it ended, and Malfoy pulled back. Harry let him go, breathing hard, still half-wondering what had just happened.

He touched his still tingling lips and looked at Malfoy...Draco. His grey eyes were huge and focused on him. Intensely. In that second, Harry saw it all and understood. Fuck. How could he have missed it for all these years?

Harry pulled the clip from Draco's hair, and it fell loose around Draco's shoulders and down his back, long and straight.

He buried his face in the crook of Draco's neck, breathing in deeply. The scent was woodsy, clean, and masculine, intoxicating. Just liked he'd known it would be. Harry breathed in again, feeling almost lightheaded.

Draco made a low sound in his chest.

Reason returned in a rush and Harry stepped back. "What am I doing?"

"I'm pretty sure you're getting off on my hair." Draco's eyes were bright, amused, yes, but also pleased. Not at all the scathing taunt Harry would have expected from him.

"I should go." Harry started to turn, and Draco put a hand on his arm.

"Don't go. Please." There was that intensity again.

"Why did you kiss me?"

The firelight played along Draco's cheeks, turning them from pale to golden and then a hint of rose. "Because I wanted to."

Harry wasn't stupid and he didn't need to be hit over the head to get something. "For how long?"

Draco was silent long enough for Harry to think he might not answer, but then he exhaled slowly. "A long time."

That he'd admitted it, surprised Harry, but in a good way. He grinned. And then Draco grinned back at him, leaning forward, and putting a hand on the nape of Harry's neck. Harry's heart started to race as soon as Draco plucked his glasses from his nose and set them on the end table.

Draco's lips touched his again. Closing his eyes, Harry gave in, letting Draco's tongue nudge his mouth open, sighing as Draco's hands moved on his body.

He raised a hand to Draco's hair, his fingers carding through the soft strands.

The kiss went on, Draco's lips moving on his, sliding back and forth, his tongue dipping into Harry's mouth and then pulling out. Harry moaned.

Draco tasted like his first Christmas morning at Hogwarts, like catching the snitch after a long, hard game, like the moment when he first saw each of his children. He tasted like victory, and elation, and pure joy.

Harry pushed forward, and Draco yielded. They ended up lying on the sofa. After a second or two of arranging themselves, he was on top of Draco, aching with the perfection of it. He thrust down and Draco laughed against his mouth, canting his hips up to meet Harry.

"Oh yes. Oh yes," Draco murmured as his fingers worked the buttons on Harry's trousers, releasing him. Harry's hands worked to free Draco, feeling the weight and breadth of him, squeezing a bit until Draco whined. "Go on, now."

And then he was pressing into Draco, and Draco was pushing up into him. Heat and perfection washed over Harry as he ground himself into Draco's belly.

He grunted, close. Almost there. His fingers tightened on Draco. There would be bruises on pale hips, and Harry couldn't wait to kiss them better.

Draco cried out as he came, hot and slick against Harry. Harry moaned, thrusting one more time and coming, too.

As he tried to catch his breath, he pressed his sweaty forehead to Draco's and reached down to push the damp hair out of his face.

"That was a long time in coming," Draco said, laughing.

"Speak for yourself."

"Potter...Harry. Are you that slow on the uptake?"

Harry let out a long slow sigh. There was no use in denying it now. And really, he'd denied it for most of his life and look where it got him. "I suppose you're never going to let me forget it, are you?"

That chuckle sent shivers down Harry's spine. "Do I ever let you forget anything?" Draco asked, kissing him again.

"I don't know, but I'm willing to find out."

"I should hope so. We need to clean up."

Harry waved a finger between them. "_Scourgify._"

"Show off."

Before Harry could answer that, the door opened.

"Draco. There was no one to let me --" Hermione stopped short at the sight of them. "Oh, bloody hell, I'm sorry." She turned around and started to walk out.

"Hermione!" Draco called, pushing at him, doing up his trousers with one hand.

Harry sat up, his face burning and buried his head in his hands. Why did things like this always happen to him?

She stopped at the door, but didn't turn around. "I don't want to interrupt."

"Too damned late for that. Don't leave. Give us a second and go into the library," said Draco.

"Harry?" she said.

"Yeah. Fine. We'll be there in a second." Harry took a breath.

"Right then." Hermione closed the door behind her.

"Fuck." Malfoy stood and pulled his wand. "Accio grey robes."

"You know, that's going to look ridiculous." Harry couldn't believe he was going to try to hide behind it.

"They match my trousers exactly."

Harry laughed. "Right. Give it up."

"I finally have you where I want you, and someone interrupts." Draco's attempt at a pout was not adorable. Not at all.

"It could have been a few minutes earlier." Which would have made the whole thing infinitely worse than it had been.

"Typical Gryffindor, always looking for the bright side of things." Draco shook his head.

Stepping up to him, Harry gathered Draco into his arms. He felt whole and solid. Harry wanted nothing more than to push him back down on the sofa. "We've got time, Draco. We don't need to rush."

"Say it again," Draco said, his eyes sparkling.

Harry had to smile at that. "What?"

"My name."

Harry kissed him. "Draco. It's not like I haven't said it before."

"Not in my hearing." Draco sighed and put his head on Harry's shoulder. "It's a good thing I like her."

He ran his hand up and down Draco's back before finally letting him go. "You do, don't you?"

"Very much."

* * *

As he and Draco went into the library, Harry's already hot face heated more. He wasn't sorry or embarrassed by what he'd done with Draco. But getting caught like a teenager... was... humiliating, even if he knew that Hermione would be okay with it.

Hermione turned around to smile at them, and her cheeks were flushed, too.

"Let's get this over with, all right," Draco said in an amused tone.

"What?" Harry had no idea what he was talking about. Why wasn't Draco embarrassed?

"Say whatever you've got to say and be done with it?" Draco folded his arms over his chest.

What was he expecting? "Hermione?"

She cleared her throat. "I'm not going to say anything. It's none of my business."

"As if that stopped you in the past --"

"Draco." Harry did not like his tone.

Hermione smiled, seemingly not at all insulted. If anything, her look was fond and half-indulgent. Rather like she looked at him sometimes. "I'm not going to say anything."

"Not even to berate us for being idiots?" Harry could have expected that much.

Draco looked sharply at him. "Do _you_ think we were idiots?"

"I...no." Harry looked away. "The timing..."

"Could have been better," Draco agreed. And then shot a glance at Hermione. "We should discuss this later."

She wasn't looking at either of them, now. "Or maybe not with me."

How could they say anything? It was all too tentative yet. None of them said anything for a second or two.

"How is Scorpius?" Hermione asked, her voice just a bit too loud.

"As well as can be expected given the circumstances." Draco motioned for them both to sit on the sofa. "Can I get you a drink? Some spiced cider?"

"Cider, please." Hermione sat down in the chair beside the sofa. "Are you going to send him back to school next week?"

"I think keeping up his routine will be the best for him." Draco handed her a glass and sat down on the sofa.

Harry sat down next to him, very aware of the heat of Draco's thigh near his. His prick twitched. It was too soon for this, but he couldn't seem to help himself.

Again, silence fell, as if they had nothing to say to each other.

Hermione set her drink down. "I should go."

"I'm sorry. Don't go yet." Harry stopped. They all knew what it was.

"You haven't talked to each other. And you probably should. I'll call you tomorrow. Both of you." She stood.

Draco stood, too. "I'll see you out."

"Happy Christmas." Harry hugged her before she left with Draco.

Harry looked up when Draco returned a few minutes later. "She's not wrong, you know. I mean, about us needing to talk."

"Second thoughts?" Draco sneered, or tried to. The words actually came out sounding a bit stilted. "It's not as if anything has really happened."

"No. No second thoughts for me. But I'm in the middle of an important investigation. And you --" Harry didn't go on. He didn't know what else to say.

"All right. I understand."

Harry put his hand on Draco's arm. "Do you? I want to catch the person who killed your wife. I don't want to compromise the situation by being so involved with you I can't think clearly."

"Would you be?"

"It's possible." Oh, it was more than possible. He was going to have a hard enough time as things were. If he got anymore involved, the whole thing would turn into a disaster. "The thing is, we have time. This isn't going to go anywhere in the few weeks it will take me to wrap things up." He put a hand on Draco's cheek. "I want to enjoy this, and you."

At that, Draco smiled, the pleasure shining in his eyes. "I expect you're right. I'm just shocked that a Gryffindor could be so sensible."

"Necessity being the mother of invention."

"Isn't that a Muggle phrase?"

"An old one at that." Harry let his hand stray down Draco's hair one more time before he pulled back with a sigh.

* * *

Two days later, Harry Apparated to Malfoy Manor. He'd had a hard time staying away this long. Only the thought of risking the investigation had kept him from calling. He took a breath and knocked.

The house elf answered, surprise in her watery eyes. "Master Draco is not up yet."

Harry looked at his watch. Okay, so maybe it was a bit on the early side. But he'd been at work for hours.

"It's all right, Tessy. I'll take him into the breakfast room with me." Draco sounded far too amused. He sauntered down the last few steps of the grand staircase, wearing silky pajama bottoms that clung to his narrow hips, and a brocade dressing gown that he hadn't bothered to tie.

Harry drew in a deep breath. Draco's chest was surprisingly well defined and had a sprinkling of very light body hair that darkened to a golden line that ran down his belly into the top of his pajamas. The urge to lick along that line was nearly impossible to ignore, but Harry put an effort into it. He wouldn't have to wait much longer.

He tried to focus on Draco's face, but was immediately distracted by miles of rumpled blond hair. Draco looked like a feast, and Harry was starving. His prick hardened to the point of aching.

Smiling broadly, as if he knew just what effect he was having, Draco walked right up to him, pressing against him, crowding him into the wall. "Shall we go into the breakfast room, or would you like something else for breakfast?"

Harry couldn't help himself. He reached out, sliding his arms around Draco's back. Under his dressing gown, Draco's skin was warm and inviting. Harry kissed him, slowly, sliding his tongue in for just one taste. Just one. Then he'd be good. He groaned as Draco's hand settled on his hair, holding his head, deepening the kiss.

With a concerted effort, he took a breath and pulled away. "I've got a few more questions for you."

For a second, Draco looked like he might object, but then he shrugged. "Breakfast room it is."

"I've got a job to do. This will happen, I promise." Harry pushed the hair out of Draco's eyes with his trembling fingers. He shouldn't have started anything, but Draco was just too tempting. It served him right that he was going to have to live with the ache.

"To be sure." Draco smiled. "Come on, then. Can I offer you some breakfast? I wouldn't want a hard working Auror such as yourself to starve."

Harry followed him into a sunlit room with huge windows on all sides. "I wouldn't say no to some coffee."

Draco tapped the table with his wand and a cup of coffee appeared before Harry. He took a sip. It was perfect, rich and delicious. Closing his eyes, he groaned in pleasure.

When Harry finally looked up, Draco had a glazed look on his face. "What?" he asked.

"Do you always enjoy your food so much?"

Harry didn't follow. "The coffee is excellent."

For one more second, Draco looked at him, a strange look on his face, then he reached for a stack of mail and started to sort through it. "You said you had some follow up questions?"

"Yes. I've got a list of names of people whom Astoria prosecuted in the last few years, and I wanted to ask you about some of them."

Draco looked down at the box in his hands. He tapped a box on the table with his wand. "Scorpius? I have a package here for you."

"From whom?" The voice came from the box.

"Doesn't say. It looks like it's a book. Did you order something?"

"Not that I remember. Open it for me, okay?"

As Draco started to open the parcel, Harry felt a wave of Dark magic flow out of it.

"Draco! Stop. Don't."

But he was too late. The package burned with magical green fire.

"Drop it."

"I can't!" Draco screamed, standing and sending the chair crashing to the floor.

Harry pushed back the panic that threatened to paralyze him, and yelled, "_Lacious!_" with all the force he could drive into the spell.

The burning package ripped out of Draco's hands and before it could hit the wall, Harry slammed a containment spell around it that would hold it in stasis.

Draco was breathing hard, leaning against the wall, his hands charred nearly black.

"Can you walk?" Harry moved towards him. He wished he could cast something for the pain, but magical burns were very resistant to any other magic.

Draco's eyes rolled back in his head and Harry caught him before he hit the ground. "I guess not. Tessy!"

"Mr. Potter, sir!" The elf appeared and put her hand over her mouth. "Oh no! What happened to Master Draco?"

He hefted the surprisingly heavy Draco more securely in his arms. "I need to get him to St. Mungo's. Throw some powder in the Floo for me. And stay with Scorpius. And call Hermione."

Harry stepped into the flames.

* * *

Harry looked up as Hermione raced into the waiting room. "How is he?"

"I don't know yet. He was burned pretty badly. Did Pricilla send someone over to the Manor to look at the book and the parcel?" As long as he concentrated on the tasks at hand, the worry stayed at bay.

Hermione nodded. "Yes. I'm not sure who. She was annoyed that you weren't there to meet them."

"Well it would be hard to do that and get him here, wouldn't it?" Harry snapped, and then closed his eyes. "I'm sorry. We're..."

"You don't have to explain it to me. I'm happy for you both. Really."

He was grateful she felt that way, but it was too soon to consider talking about Draco.

She put a hand on his shoulder. "Harry?"

"It was awful." Harry closed his eyes, trying to push the image of burned, blackened hands out of his mind. He couldn't bear thinking about it. This had been too close for comfort. He could have lost Draco before he'd ever really had him.

"Don't do this. You saved his life. He's going to be fine." Hermione knew him too well.

He wasn't going to point out that she had no way of knowing that Draco _would_ be okay, not with any certainty. Harry put his head in his hands. "Did you contact Narcissa?"

"Yes. She'll be back this afternoon. She had to wait for a public portkey from Switzerland." She sat down beside him and took his hand.

"And Scorpius?" Harry asked. The poor boy must be close to the breaking point.

"He's devastated. I promised I'd Firecall him as soon as I knew anything. I wanted to bring him, but I wasn't sure...if things... I think he was going to call Albus."

"Good. He shouldn't be alone right now. I'm sure Ginny will let Al go over there." He'd give Ginny a call later and make sure everything was okay.

A Healer cleared his throat. "Mr. Potter. I understand you brought Mr. Malfoy in."

"That's right," Harry said, standing, his heart thumping against the wall of his chest. "How is he?"

"Extremely lucky. The spell fire would have consumed him had you not intervened. As it was, we had a hard time saving his left hand. He may not regain full use of it. But he should be okay otherwise in a few days. We'll keep him overnight tonight --"

Scorpius and Albus skidded to a stop in front of the waiting room.

"Thank you," Harry said, taking the hand the Healer held out. "When can we see him?"

The Healer looked at Scorpius and then back at Harry. "In about half an hour. No one should stay very long for the first couple of hours."

"Is he in a lot of pain?"

"No. But the pain killer spells are going to make him groggy. No more than ten minutes a visit." The Healer gave everyone a stern look and walked away.

"What are you boys doing here?" Hermione asked, but her tone wasn't as reproving as it should have been.

Harry put his hands on his hips. "Your dad is going to be fine. Hermione told you we'd get in touch as soon as we knew anything."

"But Dad, we couldn't wait. Scorpius _had_ to know now."

He looked at his son and could see all of Albus' eagerness to help a friend. "And you had to come with him?"

"Well, you said I wasn't allowed into Muggle London alone. So, I Floo'd to Malfoy Manor from Mum's and we both went together." Al gave him the half-smile that Harry found hard to resist, even when he should.

There was nothing Harry could do. "All right. As you heard, we can see your dad soon."

Scorpius looked up at him, his grey eyes shining wetly. "Tessy told me you saved him. Thank you."

Harry stepped closer, and the boy flung himself into Harry's arms, his thin shoulders starting to shake. "It's going to be okay, Scorpius," Harry promised. "He's going to be okay."

* * *

Later that night, Harry came around the corner on the first floor of St. Mungo's, and saw the woman from the dress shop -- Flora, that was her name -- open the door to Draco's room. She looked up and saw him, and then looked back at the door. "Oh dear, that's the wrong room, isn't it?"

"What room were you looking for?" Harry asked.

"My aunt's got a bit of the vanishing sickness." Flora didn't meet his eyes.

"I think you want to go up one floor."

"Oh, thank you. I'll be on my way." She smiled at him and hurried away.

Something didn't feel quite right about the encounter, but Harry couldn't put his finger on what it was. He pushed through the door. Draco was sitting up in bed, his left hand was bandaged, and his right was very pink with new skin growth.

"Do you know Flora Williamson?"

Malfoy shrugged. "That name sounds vaguely familiar. Who is she?"

"She works for Madam Malkin as one of her assistants. She almost walked into your room just now, but when she saw me, she changed her mind. Said it was the wrong room."

Draco's brow creased. "That's a bit odd. Why was she here?"

"Sick aunt. I'll check it out when I leave." Even though it was probably just what it looked like, it never hurts to check.

He gave Harry an indulgent look. "Always on the look-out aren't you?"

"I'm not on the case anymore. It would be a bit difficult to be objective, wouldn't it?" That was an understatement. When it came to Draco, objectivity didn't exist. It had never existed.

"_I_ wouldn't disparage your integrity."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"If you'd taken me up on the offer I made this morning, Scorpius would have opened that package, not me."

There was absolutely nothing Harry could say to that. "You can't second guess yourself or you'll go mad. You had a right to expect I'd respond to the offer."

"Perhaps. I'm grateful that you didn't."

"I'm still going to be unofficially working on the case." Harry sat down on the edge of the bed rather than the chair. He moved some of Draco's loose hair off his face with one finger and resisted the urge to bury his face in it.

Draco closed his eyes. "I wouldn't have expected anything less from you."

"We're going to have a guard at the manor."

"That's not actually necessary. Even if we've taken out most of the Dark magic, it's still warded, you know."

"I'll stay, too. If you'd like."

A smirk appeared. "Yeah, I would like that."

Harry wanted to kiss him badly. But this wasn't the time or place for that. To distract himself, he moved back, away from temptation. "We don't know who sent the book."

"I thought not. But the spell was the same, wasn't it?"

Clearly, the killer was someone with a grudge. "If there's no one in the present who hates you or Astoria enough to want you to suffer as well as kill you, what is in your past? Or hers?"

Draco's bit his lip, then shook his head. "Zabini checks out?"

"Yes," Harry said. He and Hermione had been over it every way they could. There was no connection between them. Zabini had been much more interested in Malfoy Investments than he'd probably been in Draco when he'd tried to start a relationship. At least, his four ex-wives might suggest that.

"I'm sure there are any number of Death Eaters who hated my father enough to kill me."

"It's been too long. Your father has been dead for twenty years." Harry had a feeling the reason behind Astoria's death was related to the past, but not to Lucius or the Death Eaters. It was more personal than that.

"Eighteen years, actually. What do you think, then?"

Harry went over what they knew again. Nothing made sense. "Was Astoria engaged or betrothed to someone else before you?"

"No. Astoria's betrothed died in the war." Draco cleared his throat. "He was a Death Eater. Her parents might not have allowed the marriage even if he had survived."

"What about you? Who were you betrothed to before Astoria?"

"I was never officially betrothed to anyone. Unofficially, Pansy Parkinson."

"Why wasn't it official?"

"Her parents thought she was too good for us. Even though my mum was a Black. My dad was too nouveau riche for their tastes." Draco's tone was scathing.

Another time, Harry would have been amused by Draco's comment. "Why didn't you marry her?"

"Are you joking? Between both of her parents being Death Eaters, and what she said in the Great Hall that night, her family name was worthless. I don't know what happened -- I was back at school -- but when I got home my mother said she was arranging a marriage with someone else."

"She never told you?"

"I didn't care. Pansy was an idiot. I was glad to be quit of her." Draco shuddered.

"She wasn't smart." Harry remembered the moment when she pointed to him in the Great Hall. For one second he'd thought he was dead. Then three-quarters of the school stood to protect him. "So you have no idea what happened to her?"

"My mother said she paid out a portion of the settlement money."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck. There were still too many things about the closed pureblood society that he didn't know. "What settlement?"

"When a pureblood betrothal is broken, the family who breaks it pays out a settlement. The money ensures that the person who is rejected will still be able to survive if they don't get another offer. Even if it weren't a formal payout, Pansy should have had enough to go somewhere else and settle there."

"Have you seen Pansy since?"

"Not since the Great Hall incident."

"I'll talk to your mum."

"For someone not working on the case, you seem pretty official right now." Draco reached out to touch him with his bandaged hand, but pulled back and scowled down at his hand.

He took Draco's unbandaged hand in his gently. "I can't help it. I want to see you and Scorpius out of harm's way."

That made Draco grin. "The sooner done, the sooner we can move onto other things."

Harry kissed him lightly, one hand sliding into Draco's loose hair. Because he was just too hard to resist, Harry kissed him again, using his hair as an anchor. Draco's tongue pushed into his mouth, sliding over his tongue teasingly.

Harry's breath caught and his heart started to pound. He trembled as Draco's fingers softly stroked his neck above the collar of his robes. Closing his eyes, Harry yielded, pushing Draco back into the pillows.

A noise in the corridor made Harry pull back, albeit reluctantly. "I should go. You're going to be released in the morning. I'll bring Scorpius to the manor before lunch."

"Thank you for taking care of him. He shouldn't be alone right now."

"I know. Both James and Albus are running him around so much that he's too tired to think. But I wish they would have let him stay with you today. It would have been better for him."

Draco nodded his thanks. "I'm going to spend all the time I can with him until he goes back to school. I doubt it will be enough, but I can't keep him past next week."

"I know. School will help him get his bearings. He's resilient."

"He's just lost his mother and almost his father. I can't see --"

Harry put a finger to Draco's lips. "Talk to McGonagall, I'm sure she'll keep an eye on him. Neville is his Head of House, and will no doubt be on the look-out for anything wrong, too."

Draco sighed. "It's just --"

"Yeah. I know. You're worried. I would be, too." Harry pressed a quick kiss to his mouth. "I'll see you in the morning."

On his way out, Harry went up to the second floor to check on Flora's aunt. There wasn't a Williamson on the floor, but the mediwitch said she'd seen Flora go into one of the rooms and come out about half an hour later. She'd been busy and couldn't say which room it was.

* * *

"Thank you for bringing Scorpius back," Draco said sitting down on the sofa in his upstairs office. "But it's not as if he could get lost on the Floo."

Harry remembered his first Floo trip where he did managed to get lost. Of course, Scorpius had been Flooing his whole life. "I was just making sure --"

"Yes. Yes. I know. Always the helpful Gryffindor." He waved a hand for Harry to sit down.

"Do you want something to eat?" Harry wasn't sure what had got up Draco's nose this morning. By all rights, he should be happy to be out of St. Mungo's.

"If I did, I have house-elves to make it for me. Why don't you just go back to your office?"

"I'm not the primary on the case anymore, so I don't have anything pressing. I thought I'd make sure you were okay."

Draco exhaled long and slow. "I'm fine, Potter. Really."

Potter? That shouldn't bother him as much as it did. Somehow, it seemed like more of an insult than ever before. "Then what is the problem?"

"There isn't one. Not that I know of." He folded his arms over his chest and glared at some point over Harry's shoulder. Not even looking at him.

"So, you just want me to leave?" Harry wanted to be here, to help with whatever was needed, but not if Draco didn't want him here.

"Yes." His tone was perfectly flat. Almost cold.

It stung, but Harry tried not to take it personally. He'd better go before he annoyed Draco even more. "All right. Can you send --"

Draco closed his eyes and exhaled harshly. "No. Don't go. I'm tired and my hand hurts. I don't deal with..."

Harry understood. Ginny had told him more than once that he was worst than a child when he was in pain. "Why don't you go to bed? I'll keep an eye on the boys."

"I'm waiting for the potion to kick in."

"How long ago did you take it?" It should be working by now. Harry looked close at him. His color was coming back even as he watched.

"Right before you got here. I'm sorry --"

Harry didn't let him finish. He took Draco's arm and pulled him gently to his feet. He gathered him close and held him. Draco sighed into his shoulder.

"It's okay. I understand," Harry said, his hand stroking up and down Draco's back.

For a time, they simply stood together. Harry finally pulled back and Draco put a hand on his cheek, leaning down to kiss him softly. "Thanks," he said.

Harry smiled and kissed him quickly. "I think maybe you should lie down."

"Only if you go with me." His tone was deep and low and ten kinds of sexy.

The accompanying leer skidded across Harry's spine and down into his groin. "I suspect that's wishful thinking on your part. You were in a lot of pain just a few minutes ago."

"I'm not any more. In fact, I feel quite good." Draco pushed him down on the sofa and knelt between his legs. Harry's heart pounded as Draco leaned forward, nuzzling the inside of his thigh. "Are you sure you're up for this?"

"For a very long time," Draco said, and then smiled. He held up his bandaged hand. "You're going to have to help."

They should wait until Draco was more healed, but the look of lust on Draco's face took Harry far beyond the point where he was capable of arguing. "What would you like?"

"You. Naked."

His tone went right to Harry's groin. With a wave of his hand, his clothes melted off and folded themselves neatly on the desk.

Draco took a breath, his eyes gleaming. "Now me."

"I'd rather do that myself." He wanted to strip Draco bare, using only his mouth, licking each inch of pale skin bared.

"Another time." Draco's tone was filled with promise.

Harry waved a hand and Draco was naked, too.

Draco leaned forward, his good hand sliding up the inside of Harry's leg, pushing his thighs apart. He ran his tongue slowly up from Harry's knee.

He wanted to press Draco down, to beg him to get there, to finish him off. Instead, Harry just panted. "Oh, God."

Draco's tongue took forever to finally touch him. Harry melted back into the sofa as Draco's mouth closed over him. He tried not to thrust too deeply, but his mind spun out and he couldn't control himself. One of Draco's fingers slid slowly into him, and Harry lost it. He whined and thrust and came.

When Harry opened his eyes, Draco was still kneeling between his spread thighs, a spot of come on his cheek. Harry reached out and wiped it off, licking his finger. "Mmmm."

"You're so articulate. And noisy. If there weren't permanent wards on this room, everyone in the house would have heard you." But he was smiling indulgently at Harry.

Harry laughed delightedly. "Can I do something for you?"

"The same?"

He and Draco changed places, and Harry took a moment to look at him. Draco was beautiful, pale and golden, but he wasn't perfect. There were scars on his body. Harry didn't want to think about the one on his chest that snaked up his neck. It was faint, but it still stood out like an accusation.

Draco put his hand in Harry's hair. "Come on."

"I'm getting there. I like to survey the lay of the land before I start." He ran his tongue along his dry lips.

Draco's look was priceless. "Oh, please. Just get to it, before I lose interest completely."

"I don't think that's going to happen." Harry leaned forward and licked up the length of Draco's prick, savoring the smooth satin over steel feel under his tongue.

Harry loved this. The taste of cock. The smell of male sweat. The feel of it sliding over his tongue. The sound of a lover whining with pleasure. And Draco did, loudly.

The sound went straight into Harry's prick making it twitch with renewed interest. He opened his throat and took Draco all the way in, loving everything about it. Draco moaned even louder. Harry cupped his balls, and swallowed.

Draco stiffened, and then came with a shout, pulsing into Harry's mouth. He swallowed easily and then eased Draco out, with one last lick.

After a moment, Draco opened his eyes and smiled. "Very good."

"You needn't sound surprised," Harry said, also smiling.

"I'm not, actually." Draco pushed himself up. "Maybe at some point we'll actually do this in a bed."

"You've got very comfortable sofas." Harry leaned up and kissed him. Draco put a hand in his hair, and pulled him a little closer.

There was a noise from outside.

"Did you lock the door?" Harry would have preferred that his son not catch him in the act.

"It's a bit late to be asking that. The room is warded with soundproofing, but it only goes one way. We can hear what happens outside, but no one outside can hear what's happening inside."

"Very useful."

"Besides, Scorpius knows better than to open the door unless it's an emergency."

"No doubt he's informed Al of this as well."

"You weren't planning on keeping this a secret, were you?" There was definitely something in Draco's voice. Fear maybe.

"Nothing I do is ever a secret. You should know that going in." He'd had more than one lover balk at the publicity. Worse than that, though, were the ones that sought him out in hopes of finding it. That was most of the reason there had been no one in a very long time.

"I am aware of your reputation. But --"

"I wouldn't anyway." Harry shrugged. This would never stay a secret, even if he were inclined to try, which he wasn't.

"It must be difficult to have no privacy."

"I suspect you know that just as well as I do."

"Not quite as bad or as consistent. Over the years, people have lost interest in the Malfoys."

Harry wasn't going to address that at all. One of the boys called to the other in the hall. "We should get dressed."

* * *

"So, Dad," Al said as they arrived back at Harry's flat.

"Hmm?" Harry had to get into the office today. He wanted to talk to Narcissa Malfoy about a couple of things, too.

"You and Scorpius' dad?" Al's tone held a world of speculation and question.

Harry looked up at that, trying to read Al's expression. He couldn't tell if Al approved or not and he wasn't sure how he'd feel if Al didn't. "Does that bother you?"

"I like Scorpius."

"That didn't answer the question."

Al looked down and his face was red. "I just... Scorpius is my friend. I want him to stay that way."

"Why wouldn't he?"

"If you were to break up with Mr. Malfoy, we might not be friends anymore."

"One thing has nothing to do with the other." And he was barely even seeing Draco at this point. "Draco and I aren't even really involved. Yet."

Al looked doubtful and said nothing.

"I can't make you any promises one way or another. Draco and I are just starting to..." He trailed off. What could he say? Harry didn't know either. He only knew what he'd like, and that was still too tentative to talk about. "How is Scorpius doing?"

Al blinked and then sighed. "He's okay. I think about what it must be like for him."

Harry waited.

"It's scary. I don't like the idea."

"Of course not. I wish I could promise you that won't happen, but I can't." Especially not in Harry's line of work.

"I know." Al looked away. "I'd better get back to Mum's. She's been pretty good about letting me go to Scorpius', but I do want to spend some time with her."

"I'm sure she'll appreciate that." Ginny had been very generous about the time Al had spent with him this holiday. He'd have to send her flowers or something.

* * *

"Mrs. Malfoy," Harry said politely as he was let into her Mayfair flat. "Thank you for seeing me."

"Mr. Potter, do come in." She waved him to the sofa. "Can I get you something to drink?

"No, thank you." He sat down. Even if he had no idea about decorating or what was in style, he could see and appreciate the subtle elegance of the room.

"Thank you again for seeing to Scorpius. I would have never left town if..." She trailed off.

"I was glad to do it. He shouldn't be alone now. And Al was quite pleased to have him stay over. I'm actually here because I have some questions about Draco's betrothal."

Narcissa sat down and smoothed her robes around her. "To Astoria?"

"Actually, no. To Pansy Parkinson."

"That betrothal was never official." Narcissa's tone was coldly dismissive.

"Draco told me that."

Her smile was pure spite. "Rather ironic, don't you think? In the end, if Ratner Parkinson had made the betrothal official, Pansy would have been taken care of for life. As it was, I felt sorry enough for the girl to give her a portion of the settlement she would have got. We could have walked away and left her with nothing."

Somehow, Harry didn't think she'd paid off Pansy out of the generosity of her heart. "Do you have any idea what became of her?"

"None. I never saw her after we ended the betrothal. I do know that the Ministry took almost everything her parents owned in reparations for their crimes. I also know that she couldn't go back to Hogwarts with the rest of you."

Harry hadn't known that. He'd assumed that she'd just left. "Why not?"

Narcissa looked at him as if he were mad. "For one thing, Headmistress McGonagall couldn't guarantee her safety. Not with the death threats she was getting."

"Why --" Harry held up his hand. "No. I know. I just can't believe it. I mean, nearly all of the Slytherins walked out of the Great Hall that night."

"But if you'll recall, some of the 6th and 7th years came back, and fought with you."

"I know. And I appreciated it." He still couldn't believe that Theodore Nott, Millicent Bulstrode, Daphne Greengrass, and six others had come back from Hogsmeade to fight on his side. Their action may not have made that big a difference in the end, but it had helped to bolster morale.

"Your gratitude saved many of them from being ostracized."

He looked down. "I tried. Did she suffer that much backlash?"

"Yes. From what I'd heard, she was completely shunned, even by Slytherins. Most of them may not have fought with you, but they were smart enough to keep their heads down and their mouths shut. She...well, you know what she did."

"So, she probably had to leave the country."

"I doubt anyone would have given her a job, especially since she hadn't finished school."

Harry couldn't imagine being in those circumstances, but in truth, he didn't feel terribly sorry for her. She'd tried to sell him out to save her own skin. "So, you don't know or remember anything else?"

"No, dear. If I think of anything, I'll be sure to tell you or pass it on to Draco." She smiled at him, and he could easily see the cunning in it.

He looked down, hoping he wasn't blushing as badly as he thought he was.

She laughed again, fondly. "It's all right. He's done his duty to his family. Now, he can do what he wants."

Harry so wasn't going to answer that.

* * *

Harry knocked on the open door to Hermione's office. She looked up and scowled at him. "I'm busy just this second. Can it wait?"

"Not really. I need a favor," he said, coming in and sitting down.

She bit her lip, and clearly she was calculating how much time this was going to take. "What? I've got to have these briefs out by close of business today, so they can be filed first thing tomorrow."

"What are you rushing for? You know that nothing actually gets done this week. I doubt there's a judge who'll hear a case. Well, not unless it's something major."

"I need to have this done just in case. Because you know Priscilla is pushing hard on this one." Hermione waved a parchment at him.

"I thought she was all over Astoria's murder and nothing else."

"Oh she is. But that isn't the only case we're working on." Hermione pushed the hair out of her face. "I haven't talked to Draco today. How is he?"

"I saw him earlier today when I brought Scorpius back home. He's okay. His hand is still bandaged and weak." Harry was proud of himself that he managed to say any of that without blushing.

Hermione smirked at him. Nothing got by her. "I hope he gets full use of it back."

"I do, too. Though the disability won't be as much as a problem, working in investments."

"Just when he's trying to do something with his left hand." She glanced at him. "Was there a reason you interrupted me?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "I need you to run a check on something."

"The computer in your office works just as well as mine does," Hermione said, frowning at him.

"It's not so much the computer as the operator." He had tried with those things, but he could never get them to work right.

"Honestly, Harry. We've had these computers for a year. And you still can't figure out how to work them?"

"But I don't get the results that you do."

"All you have to do is tap your wand to turn it on, type in the name, and tap your wand again. It's really not that difficult."

"You do it so much better than me," said Harry, putting a bit of a whine in his voice. He knew he could do it himself, but he didn't like the computers.

"In the time you take to wheedle me into doing it for you, you could have done it yourself, you know." She blew out a breath that sounded long-suffering. "Who?"

"Pansy Parkinson."

"Why her? She disappeared twenty years ago." Hermione tapped the screen in front of her with her wand and muttered, "_Laborious_," to the computer.

"She was unofficially betrothed to Draco before Astoria."

"Unofficially?"

Harry explained. "It's a long shot, but I just have a feeling about this."

"Okay." Hermione typed a bit and then touched her wand to the console again. A second later, her eyes widened. "Well, that's a surprise."

"What?"

"Did you know that Madam Malkin is Pansy's aunt? On her mother's side. And she was disowned for marrying a half-blood on the side of Light about sixty years ago. He died shortly after the marriage, which is kind of sad."

"So, there was someone who could have helped her."

"I doubt Pansy had any contact with Madam Malkin, except, of course, to buy robes from her."

"Still, if Pansy were desperate, she might have gone to her aunt."

Hermione shook her head. "I doubt it. I'm betting Pansy left Britain."

"I guess I'm going to find out." Harry stood. "Thanks."

* * *

"Madam Malkin. It's good to see you again." Harry stepped through the open door.

"Mr. Potter. Is there something I can do for you this morning? We're having a bit of a crisis at the moment, so I don't have much time." She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.

"I'm sorry. This won't take long. I have a few questions for you about your niece, Pansy Parkinson."

Madam Malkin's expression darkened. "What has that stupid bint done now?"

"You're in contact with her?" Harry asked, excited. Maybe this was the break he'd been looking for.

"Of course I am. I thought you realized....no, you didn't, did you? You didn't ask her to take off her Glamour when you questioned her?"

Harry pulled himself up to his full height and squared his shoulders. "Glamour? I haven't seen Pansy. I have no idea what you're talking about. I think I'd like an explanation, if you please."

She took a step back. "She's my niece..."

"I know that."

"No. Flora Williamson. She's Pansy."

"Excuse me? Flora did remove her Glamour and even though she was horribly scarred, she wasn't Pansy Parkinson. I would have recognized her."

Madam Malkin's brow creased. "I don't know how she did it, but Flora is Pansy."

Polyjuice? It had to be. Harry had never heard of the potion being used under a Glamour, but it was technically possible. "Why would she work here?"

"When she was rich, she'd been too good for the likes of me. You know, I could have gone back to my family after Fredrick died, but I would have had to say that I'd been wrong. And I hadn't been. So, I made something of myself. And then she came begging for a job, saying we were family. I wanted to turn her away, but I couldn't."

"Why the Glamour?"

"I wouldn't hire her unless she agreed to it. You have to understand that no one would have come in here if she'd been here as herself. I couldn't risk my business for her. And if I hadn't hired her, she would have starved. Or been forced to sell herself."

Pansy...was a victim of her own stupidity and circumstances. Harry didn't want to feel sorry for her. "What happened to the settlement the Malfoys gave her. I understand it was a decent amount."

"She had no idea how to manage money, so she spent it. I thought she might make a life for herself, but she didn't."

"Why not? Why didn't she leave England."

"She had nowhere to go. All she did by staying here was become more and more bitter as the years went on. She never got over the idea she was entitled to something she didn't get. She didn't want to work for a living and she resented that she had to."

"You didn't think to tell me this when I was first here."

Madam Malkin seemed genuinely confused. "You didn't ask about Pansy. You wanted to know about the robes we made for Mrs. Malfoy."

She had a point. "Where is Pansy now?" Harry asked.

"She quit this morning, saying she was tired of working for a living. She's done it before. She'll be back when she's hungry. Probably by next week." Madam Malkin rubbed the bridge of her nose. "That isn't going to get all the New Year's Eve robes done _this_ week, though. And she took some robes home this past week to finish. Now, I'll have to go to her flat and get them. If she hasn't destroyed them out of spite."

"Where does she live?" Harry did not have a good feeling about this at all.

"Just outside Knockturn Alley. I've never been there, but I have the address." She went to the back and came back with a bit of parchment. "Here it is."

"Thank you," Harry said, taking the parchment.

* * *

The flat was a third floor walk-up. A rat passed him going up the stairs. He knocked on Pansy's door, and wasn't surprised when he didn't get an answer. A quick spell told him the flat was empty.

"Alohomora," Harry said, and the door opened. It was odd that someone who was magically sophisticated enough to do the Medea spell hadn't warded her home better.

He searched the flat. Some of the furniture had been of very good quality, but the upholstery was now threadbare and worn shiny. In her desk, he found pictures of Draco, clippings that showed every major event in his life for the last twenty years. His wedding, his father's funeral, his taking over the failing Malfoy Investments and making it a success, the birth of his son, and more recently, the murder of his wife and her funeral.

"Bloody hell," Harry murmured, pulling out his mobile. "This is Potter. Is someone at Malfoy Manor?"

"Yes, sir. And the wards have been strengthened," said the person who answered his call.

"Can you put me through to Pricilla Chambers?

He heard a couple of clicks. "Chambers."

"Pricilla. It's Harry. I found Pansy Parkinson's flat. But unfortunately, she's not in it. She's probably the one who killed Astoria Malfoy."

"No one has seen her for --"

"Except that we all have. She's been working under a Glamour in Madam Malkin's shop." Harry went on to explain everything.

"Well, damnation. It all fits, doesn't it. And Madam Malkin was just trying to help her niece. She didn't actually do anything wrong."

"If Parkinson weren't mad, it never would have mattered at all. I'm heading out to Malfoy Manor right now."

"Do you think she'll go there?"

"Yeah. I have a feeling about this one."

"You shouldn't be out there until this is over. We've got people there already."

"Right. So do I. I'll let you know what happened."

"Like that, is it, Harry?" Despite her obvious annoyance that he wasn't going to follow orders, he could also hear she was pleased for him.

Had everyone known about this but him? He couldn't be that dense, even about Draco. Could he? "I'll talk to you later."

* * *

Harry's heart was pounding as he Apparated to the edge of the drive to Malfoy Manor. It was too quiet. Paulson should have been on guard outside, but Harry couldn't raise him on his mobile. He scanned the area, and didn't see anything moving in the darkness.

Moving slightly to the right of the drive, Harry walked along the hedge, looking around. After only a few feet, he saw a crumpled body partially behind a tree. His stomach twisted as he found Paulson, his eyes were still open.

"It's Potter," Harry said into his mobile. "Paulson is dead. Send a backup team to Malfoy Manor. I'm going in."

"Sir," the dispatcher said. "You should wait for the backup."

"I'll be fine." Harry closed the phone. He wasn't going to argue the issue.

The door to the Manor wasn't locked. Wand drawn, he crept silently inside. He stopped just inside the door, listening. At the foot of the steps, one of the house elves lay, not moving, his eyes open, sightless.

Harry stepped over him, making his way up the carpeted steps. He listened again. He could hear murmuring coming from down the hall.

"Don't kill my son. I beg you." Draco's voice shook, fear coated every word. "I'll do anything you want."

"But don't you understand. If I kill him then you'll need an heir. You'll have to marry me. Like you should have done." Pansy's voice had a maniacal quality.

"I'll marry you anyway," Draco said, his tone full of earnestness. "I wanted to then, but my mother wouldn't let me."

"Liar," she screamed. "You prefer men! You only married because you needed an heir."

"I swear it's not true. I only said that to fool my wife. So she'd leave me be. I couldn't find you. Everyone said you'd left the country."

"You didn't look hard enough. I was right here," said Pansy coyly, clearly pleased that he'd looked for her. "You could have found me."

"I tried. You hid too well," Draco said, his voice shaking.

Harry eased around the corner of the door. Pansy was standing with her wand at Scorpius' neck. Draco stood wandless, his hands out.

"_Expelliarmus_!" Harry yelled and held out his hand to catch Pansy's wand.

"No!" she screamed and lunged towards him, her fingers curling into claws.

"_Incarcerous_!" Harry said. Ropes shot out of his wand, wrapping around her. She went down, struggling, her eyes wild.

Draco picked up the wand at his feet. "_Ava --_"

Harry moved, knocking into him before he could cast it. "No. Don't. You'll regret it."

"No I won't! That bitch tried to kill my son," Draco's snarled, his face incandescent with rage.

It wasn't as if Harry didn't understand completely, he did. He would want to do the same to anyone who threatened one of his children. "Look at her, there's nothing left. It would be like killing a rat in a barrel."

Pansy lay on the floor, panting. Her hair was streaked with grey, and her eyes were flat, dead. She was wearing the stolen robes, and while they were elegant, she hadn't bothered to fit them to her, so they hung on her skinny frame.

"I'd be putting her out of her misery." Draco sneered down at her. "I want her to suffer."

Scorpius threw himself into Draco's arms. "Dad, I'm okay. Don't kill her. Okay."

Draco held him, his face buried in his son's hair. "You're all right?"

"Yeah. She just startled me. I didn't expect her." Scorpius stepped back, but it didn't look like Draco wanted to let him go.

"I didn't either." Draco looked down at her. "How did you get in?"

"She killed my man outside," Harry said pulling out his notebook. He wanted to touch Draco, put an arm around him or something, but he had a job to do first.

"How did you get in?" Draco asked again. He sounded stronger, in control now.

"Your wife keyed the wards to me so that I could come and fit her robes. Merlin, how I hated having to be on my knees for her. But that Mudblood was worse. I hated your wife for making me work on the Mudblood's robes." Pansy snarled.

Draco looked at her, horrified. "You killed Astoria because you had to work on Hermione's robes."

"I killed her because she had what should have been mine. I should have been your wife. I should have lived in the Manor. I should have been the toast of society. And what did I get? I got to slave for my aunt for a pittance wage. I'm going to turn forty in two weeks, and I have nothing." Pansy started to cry.

Six Aurors burst into the room.

"Bit late, there," Draco drawled. "As usual, Potter has saved the day."

"Take her away," Harry said. "I've got her confession in my notebook." He pointed his wand at Pansy. "_Finite Incantatem_."

One of the Aurors pulled her to her feet and led her out.

"I've got to go back to headquarters right now," Harry said, apologetically. He wanted to stay with Draco and Scorpius. To be a good friend.

"Come back when you're done," Draco said.

"I'll call Hermione. She'll want to know." Harry smiled at him. "We have some things to talk about."

"As you said, we have time now."

* * *

When Harry got back to the Manor, he found Hermione sitting on the couch, reading. "Draco is upstairs putting Scorpius to bed." She put the book down. "I'm going to go now. I need to collect the kids from Ron."

"I'll talk to you tomorrow morning," Harry said, kissing her cheek.

Harry went up the stairs. Scorpius was in bed, and Draco was sitting beside the bed, holding his hand. He smiled when he saw Harry in the door way.

"I waited until he fell asleep." Draco tucked the blanket around his son.

Harry smiled. How many times had he done that when one of his kids needed the comfort of their parents?

Draco closed the door softly. "Hermione?"

"Gone to get her kids. I can stay."

"You don't have to."

"Maybe I want to."

That made Draco smile a little sadly. "I don't know. I'm...." He shrugged.

"I think what you need now is a good night's sleep and not to worry about anything else until tomorrow."

The look in Draco's eyes said it all.

"Let me take care of you." Harry put a hand on his forearm, just holding it.

"Yes. Oh, yes." Draco leaned into him, kissing him softly. "What did you have in mind?"

"I think that's for me to know, and you to enjoy."

"I can do that." Draco opened the door to his suite and bowed a little to usher Harry in.

The room was about what he'd expected from seeing the rest of the house. Large, beautifully decorated, with a wide bed on a raised dais. Everything was done in warm creams and brown silks, inviting. All Harry wanted was to strip Draco bare, lay him down on the bed, and make him forget for a while.

Draco laughed softly. "I can tell what you're thinking."

"Good." Harry slid both hands onto his face, and kissed him.

* * *

It was dark when Harry woke. His heart thudded when he saw the bed was empty. Before panic could set in, a noise drew his gaze to the window. Draco stood naked, looking out, the reflection of the snow turning his skin luminescent silver in the moon light.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked, sitting up.

"Fine." But his voice was hoarse, wet.

Harry moved off the bed and stood behind him, sliding his arms around Draco's chilled skin. "It's going to take a while."

Draco sniffed. "About a hundred times a day I think that I must remember to tell Astoria something or other."

So many people had died when he was young that Harry understood too well. It was so hard, especially at first. "You never forget, not completely, but time does help."

"I know." Draco let out a long slow breath. "What I don't understand is why this, between us, is happening now, when I can only barely deal with it."

"The timing could have been better. If you're not ready..." Harry's heart clenched, but he couldn't force something that wasn't right. The thing was, deep in his gut, he _knew_ this was right. That it would work out.

"I've been waiting for this since I was old enough to realize why I hated you so much."

"And I only realized last week." He didn't want to think about how embarrassed he should be that all the clues hadn't added up for him.

Draco laughed, his chest vibrating for a moment before he stopped.

Even facing away, he could almost feel the frown form on Draco's face. "You need time, don't you?"

"Would I sound like a girl if I said maybe we should get to know each other a bit?"

That made Harry laugh. It was about the last thing he'd ever have expected Draco to say. "You wouldn't be wrong."

"About sounding like a girl?"

"Actually what you said about going slow." Harry snorted. "Besides, most people think I'm the girl."

"I can attest to the fact you're not." Draco's hand snaked back and cupped him.

Harry thrust into his hand for a moment. "We should take it slow. Maybe go to dinner once in a while."

Draco squeezed a little harder and wonderful sensations went through Harry.

"That's not conducive to slow. That's going to end with you on your back," Harry said, pressing into the touch again.

"Or maybe it will be you on _your_ back," Draco turned in his arms, and leaned down to kiss him.

"It could happen." Harry wasn't opposed to the idea. In fact, he wasn't opposed to anything Draco might suggest. "I'll let you set the pace."

"Let's go back to bed and you can comfort me some more."

"Is that what I was doing?"

"And don't think I don't appreciate it." Draco kissed him again. "Let's get into bed."

"Sounds like a plan to me."

\-- finis

08/06/07-03/02/08


End file.
